Modus Operandi
by Zhampy
Summary: Cloud is sent back to his cadet days. Now not only does Gaia's Champion have to deal with his adolescence with an all-new cynicism, he also has Dead-Aerith and Dead-Zack constantly intervening on his and Sephiroth's behalf. Cloud/Sephiroth, Aerith/Zack
1. It's a Kind of Happiness?

**Author:** Zhampy  
**Rating:** T / PG-15  
**Genre:** Humour/Romance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own a single thing in the FFVII Compilation.  
**Summery:** From the lifestream Aerith and Zack finally reach their wits end dealing with an emo Cloud and send him back to a happier time. Cloud wakes up in his bunk as a 16 year-old and is immeditely sent out for training despite being drunk off his tits. Cloud is an angry drunk and assaults his supereior officer.  
**Contains:** Main pairing is **Cloud/Sephiroth** with a **Zack/Aerith** side-dish and some other minor pairings. Some OOCness for humourous purposes, AR, couple of OCs, and occasional foul language.

**a/n: **I'll be honest, despite what i'm going to do to the characters in this fic i'll admit to disliking the FFVII Extended Universe and what it's done to the characters and basic plot. I don't care about most of it and it's been years since i've succumbed to the siren call of Advent Children and Crisis Core, so i'm fuzzy on... lots of details. Forgive me for my inaccuracies!

**Modus Operandi  
**_Episode One – It's a Kind of Happiness?_

Imagine, for a moment, that you're stood in a wasteland. Alone. It's cold, and it'll be getting dark soon. Also you're blind. No civilisation for miles and you have to get back home. You run as fast as your tired legs will carry you, but you're blind so you can't see what you're doing. Then you remember you have no home to return to. So you stop. And take a look around (that doesn't help any because you're blind). This is your life now. This is what you've done to yourself. This is...

… you forget where you were going with this.

"Here you are, pal," the slick-looking old barman passed him his drink.

Cloud sighed.

Life was really down the shitter right about now.

There's a storm in my heart; _my thoughts tangled like a—some sort of squid._ My long nightmare will never end; _I got here too late and they're out of pickled eggs._ I'm being stalked, by a shadow; _Vincent doesn't quite grasp Hide and Seek._ There's a pain in the back of my mind; _Yuffie put my materia back in the wrong order._ It feels like my life is speeding passed before my eyes; _I got a ticket for double parking Fenrir._ My personality permanently stained; _the dry-cleaners ruined my best shirt._

"**Hello again, Cloud," a soft, sweet voice quietly greeted him.**

"Aerith," Cloud muttered in recognition as he settled his head in his arms, watching the liquid slosh to-and-fro as he moved his glass in tandem with other barflies. The pretty pink flower.

"**And you called me the slum drunk‽ What do you call this?" Aerith's voice again.**

The frail priestess.

"**This is pathetic."**

The vulnerable white mage.

"**Cloud, you're a wreck."**

The martyr to their cause.

"**We've been through this already, Cloud," a second, masculine voice said. "You've already got over this guilt once. Stop being such a sad sack and suck it up, bro."**

He'd often hear their voices. Often reminisce about the old days while sitting in this unnamed bar, alone and nursing a gin and tonic. He was meant to be a hero. Meant to have saved the Planet—twice! He'd defeated a walking God, and his kids too or something—wait, was he a child murderer? Oh, Gaia! It was no wonder no one wanted to sit next to him at the bar!

"**Getting some serious second-hand embarrassment over here," Aerith sang.**

The problem with having friends was that they insisted on being friends with you. Wahh, Cloud, you're depressed; talk to us. Hey, buddy! Let's go for a walk, you haven't had a, uh bath for quite a while. Y'know, there's this thing called the "outside". I hear it's quite fun, maybe you should give it a go? Hey, pal, we booked you an appointment with... a, uh, friend. He'd like to talk to you about, er, stuff. No, Cloud, no! Put the bottle down!

"**I'm your friend, buddy. And I would put my boot so far up your arse you'd be coughing leather for days."**

"**Zack, don't be so harsh," Aerith admonished the second voice.**

"**How else we gonna get through to this Negative Nancy?"**

"**You have to be subtle," Aerith said smoooothly.**

He was so godamned drunk right about now.

"**I've had a great idea," Aerith started in that sort of too-happy tone that had always led to bad things. Bad, bad things. "We're going to send you back to when you where happy. When you were 16 back at ShinRa. Cool, huh?"**

"WHAT? No! No, that is the opposite of happiness! That is anti-happiness! No! ... no! No!"

"**It's a kind of happiness?" Aerith tried.**

But Cloud was still at it; "no! No!... no! Nooooo."

"**That doesn't even sound like a word anymore," Aerith quipped.**

Cloud had managed to create a circle of vacated seats around him as he banged his fist on the table with each exclamation of outrage.

"Shit, call the police," the barkeep whispered harshly to a waitress.

"**Uh, maybe you should stop doing that, buddy," Zack suggested with a hint of nervousness.**

"I'm tired of you! I'm tired of all of you! Everyone just leave me alone, argh."

Seemed most of the bar agreed with him as the patrons eyed him form a safe distance. You never knew what the young, volatile ones who couldn't handle their alcohol would suddenly do. The waitresses had started carefully removing all the chairs from around the blonde man. But Cloud wouldn't let-up on his little mental breakdown.

"Stop talking in my head, this is really traumatising!"

Oh! But wait. He stopped. This whole thing was absolutely ridiculous. There was no way such a thing would be possible. Completely ludicrous. Absurd. No way. Also this was not real.

"**We can totally do it," the smirk in Aerith's voice was obvious.**

"Why not just go back and kick Lucrecia in the stomach a few times?"

"**Cloud, that is awful!" Zack's appalled voice chastised him. If the man were still alive Cloud would have received a clout upside the head.**

"How 'bout kicking Hojo's mother a few times?"

"**Slightly less worse, but still bad," Aerith concluded.**

"**Besides, we all know that Hojo crawled out from under a rock fully-formed."**

A pause. "Why are you doing this to me?" Cloud all but sobbed into his drink.

"**You're unhappy and we're your friends."**

"**Also we can only play dead-badminton so many times before needing another form of entertainment."**

The table rattled as Cloud abruptly stood, sending the barflies (barf, lies) closest to him scuttling away like scared mice. "Whatever! Stop messing with my life, I don't have to take this kind of abuse, i'm Cloud-Fucking-Strife. I go where I want!"

And with that little outburst Gaia's drunken Champion stumbled for the exit.

"**Oh no you don't!"**

"**Think you can get away from us?"**

Then suddenly the room began spinning. Okay, nothing too unusual there, this sort of thing happened all the time. Cloud had become quite skilled with balancing on a rotating axis. The green haze behind his eyes was something new however. Usually the green haze came in an all-the-more projectile form when he was on his knees praying to the porcelain god.

"At least let me finish my drink first," Cloud begged. "C'mon, I paid for that!"

_THUD_

Blackness.

A green shining light.

Nothing.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

"Hey, Cloud. Hey, hey." Someone was pushing at his shoulder.

"Ughhh..."

"Hey, get up."

Reaching around Cloud limply slapped the intruding hand away. The sound of someone grumbling and shuffling away vaguely registered in his mind as he sluggishly shifted his body closer to the wall. Then the light footsteps came back and the next thing—

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP B—__**K—RASH**_

"Cloud, why‽" a distressed voice shrieked.

"Ow, fuck!" Cloud cradled his suddenly throbbing forehead in both hands.

Once he'd recovered slightly he looked around with bleary eyes; the dent in the metal framework of the bunk bed had a rather obvious and deep imprint to it; identifiable as suspiciously Cloud-shaped even to his misty eyes. A young blonde man in full ShinRa cadet digs was sat on the floor weeping over a broken alarm clock, its inner workings smashed down the adjacent wall akin to a shotgunned brain.

Evidently the sudden alarm had shocked him into some sick airtime and he'd smashed his face into his bunk. The young man on the floor solemnly put his wreaked clock on one of two desks, his face stricken as if he'd lost a close family pet, and turned back to Cloud.

"We 'ave ta leave now or we'll be la'e. Don't wanna b'punished."

"F'wha'?" Cloud blearily looked down at himself to notice he were dressed in the same blue cadet uniform. "Did you dress me‽"

"I did not touch yah. Tha' is gross. Now come on, we 'ave ta go!"

The young blonde boy began yanking on Cloud's arm rather roughly but Cloud wasn't in any hurry. Or entirely certain his legs would keep him vertical.

"What is your hurry?" he muttered dimly.

With one final yank the boy had finally managed to pull Cloud's upper body to the floor. "If we don't go together we'll both geh in trouble! Buddy system: barracks 03, room 22, Granville 'n' Cloud." But as Cloud refused to move even with a dislocated arm flopped over his head and his body awkwardly positioned half-on half-off his bunk, his apparent roommate became desperate. "C'mon, please! I've already bin written up twice for the... uh, _mumblemelonmumble... mumblesecretary_... tissue incident! One more black mark 'n' i'm out!"

"The melon secretary tissue incident?"

"Please don't make me explain ih again," the boy whined, jogging on the spot impatiently—or nervously.

Swinging his legs from the bed Cloud settled himself on the floor. "Let it be known that Cloud Strife does not leave a cadet in peril."

"Why yah bein' such a jerk?" Granville asked.

"Just comes natural I guess," Cloud shrugged. He beckoned for the boy with his arms held up, "lift me."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Out in what he remembered to be the main yard the cadets had been gathered to a cordoned off section behind a fence. They'd each been given a dummy rifle with blank ammo. Groups of higher ranked cadets and SOLDIERs where gathered around and practising on their own schedules.

Cloud wobbled.

He stood sandwiched between Granville and another cadet trying to wrap his listless mind around this weird-arse dream. Their superior officer, a man in a SOLDIER Third Class uniform, paced back and forth before them.

"All right ladies, listen well!" the SOLDIER's voice cut through Cloud's brain like oversized novelty scissors to a ribbon at an opening ceremony.

He wobbled again.

"Hold those rifles properly and not like a godamned pen!"

The SOLDIER could see Cloud in his peripheral.

"Trigger discipline, Turner!"

Cloud wobbled once more, this time more subtly.

"Hold your shoulder back, Shepardson!"

The nose of his rifle touched the ground.

"CADET!" The SOLDIER roared in Cloud's face, spittle flying. "Stand on your own two feet!"

Peering closer at the familiar man yet ignoring the order Cloud could feel Granville trembling. "Thompson? Why would I dream about _you_?" he asked incredulously.

"**I could see it," Aerith piped up thoughtfully. "Despite the large forehead he's not too bad. I'd dream about him."**

"**Seven out of ten," Zack awarded the SOLDIER.**

"Cadet," the SOLDIER warned sternly, "that is not how you address a superior officer."

"I remember you now." Cloud nodded with a raised index finger as if he'd just solved a complex arithmetic equation. "I remember hearing you got discharged over a liaison with a Turk. A liaison that ended over the President's desk."

_twitter twitter twitter_ the squad erupted into whispers. Super-licious, quiet verbalisations as rumours began spreading in a fast track game of Wutain Whispers.

"I heard it was with Cissnei."

"Naw, I heard it was with that guy, Rude."

"He seems like a secretive sort of fellow."

"Gags and blindfolds where involved."

"Fucking weirdo."

"Apparently it was the General who caught them."

"Shit! Scary stuff."

"SILENCE IN THE RANKS!"

All eyes snapped forward to a now obviously flustered Captain Thompson. The large-foreheaded gentleman (who was clearly having an affair of _some_ kind) was staring down Cloud with the barest restraint. The barest restraint to punch the little blonde shit in the face.

"As you can see," the man began through gritted teeth," I am still a SOLDIER Third Class. I have not been discharged and am not currently engaged in an affair."

"I'll send you a card when you're kicked out," Cloud replied curtly. "Does ShinRa make a card for this situation? 'Sorry you got dishonourably discharged, but look on the bright s—'"

Then he was on the floor.

He could taste blood. With the sun out high the menacing shadow of the SOLDIER Captain cast over him. Cloud looked up through that face contorted with seething rage to the sky.

What a nice day for a fight.

"**Do it. Do it, Cloud. Hit him," Zack audibly pumped his fist.**

"**Don't encourage him," Aerith snapped.**

"What would you do?" Cloud asked aloud and ignored his fellow cadets as they tittered nervously.

This guy was nuts!

"**I'd totally do it," Zack said clearly. "C'mon you can trust me. I'm just like you. Do it."**

Before anyone could move or even notice, Cloud's foot shot out catching the Captain's shin and knocking the man to his knees. Cloud rose sharply, grabbing a fistful of black SOLDIER Second uniform and cracked his forehead against the taller man's most impressive noggin.

"Largest target i've ever had to hit," he spat some blood from his torn lip.

Migration had come early as all his fellow cadet's jaws had hit the floor with a collective crunch. Granville had fainted dead away like a fair maiden suffering a bout of narcolepsy.

Cloud didn't quite notice the fist speeding to the back of his head.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**a/n:** Apologies for the interrobang (‽) but ffnet hates the civil union that is the exclamation mark and the question mark. Without it the tone of dialogue can change considerably and I don't like that. So i'll be using the interrobang whenever needed until ffnet decides they don't like that either.


	2. No Sailboating

**Author:** Zhampy  
**Rating:** T / PG-15  
**Genre:** Humour/Romance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own a single thing in the FFVII Compilation.  
**Summery:** After Clouds impressive, albeit drunken, display he is sent to the labs for an examination. Someone so young barely just entered into the military shouldn't show such skill. Hojo is a dick, but eventually Cloud is released under Zack's care.  
**Contains:** Main pairing is **Cloud/Sephiroth** with a **Zack/Aerith** side-dish and some other minor pairings. Some OOCness for humourous purposes, AR, couple of OCs, and occasional foul language.

**Modus Operandi  
**_Episode Two – No Sailboating_

Hollander was a useless hack, Hojo thought as he prepared his workspace. The bearded sack of flesh and bones sat in his office all day doing his best impression of a vacuum cleaner doing nothing but suck up ShinRa funds that should rightly be going to his own department. If only the President had taken his suggestion of splicing Hollander's brain with that of a dog, then at least the man would be good with fetching things. Adequate with fetching things. Okay, mildly useful with fetching things.

Honestly, the man couldn't even deal with a petulant little child. What idiot couldn't handle a child? Hollander dealt with the cadets and Hojo dealt with the SOLDIERs. That was the arrangement. This blonde boy had been sent to him after Hollander had found nothing out of the ordinary despite the insistence of the SOLDIER Third who had been training with the child that morning. Then again, the man couldn't decode the hereditary genome of the common housecat. What a dunce!

Apparently this kid was some sort of overly talented prodigy or something? _Pffft_. Boy used a gun; _Turks_ used guns. Feh! If a runt like this could bring a SOLDIER to his knees then it merely meant MORE MAKO needed. Looking down at the cadet laid on the metal table Hojo could practically see the boy's brain boarding the train to Consciousness City. Last stop. _Ding!_ Lolling his head back Cloud opened his eyes to a searing white light overhead.

"What happened? Where am I? Am I dead?" he croaked.

"Not yet, but I would be more than willing to lend my assistance," Hojo grinned.

"Nngh..." Cloud tried to throw an arm over his face but for _some_ reason felt them restrained. "Have I joined a cult?"

"Something like that," Hojo said. "Now, let's have a look at those eyes."

As the professor yanked back his eyelids and shined his little medical torch with the light cooking his eyeballs, Cloud decided to make the best of a weird situation. "So, how's it going?"

Hojo narrowed his eyes at the casual conversation the boy was apparently attempting to begin. "It would be marginally improved if you would cease speaking."

"I have the weirdest dreams sometimes," Cloud continued regardless.

"You don't say..." Hojo poked at the boy's eyeball with his little torch, but received no reaction.

"Like i'm being watched," Cloud pushed on as if he weren't in the same room with the sociopath who was ultimately responsible for the entirety of every shitty thing that had ever happened in his life. Well, except his failed military campaign and love life. Those were wholly Cloud-problems, but damned if he wouldn't blame the good doctor anyway. "I like you, doctor. I feel like I can talk to you."

"How hard did you hit your head?" Hojo asked curtly.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Cloud not-whispered, lifting his chin and looking thoroughly creepy with his folded eyelids. "I _think_ i'm _drunk_, ha ha!"

"You are not drunk, boy. I had your stomach pumped."

"**Stop talking to Hojo, dude," Zack's echo-y voice rang in his head.**

"**You're weirding us out here," Aerith continued.**

"I hear these voices," Cloud pointedly ignored his imaginary friends.

"Oh?" If Hojo had possessed emotions beyond unwarranted self-importance or a sick sense of satisfaction his surprise might have shown on his face. "Tell me more."

"They're jerks." Cloud could hear both Zack and Aerith puff with indignation.

"_Two_ voices?" Hojo queried, suddenly invested in the cadet. "Fascinating."

"My life sucks you see," Cloud sighed.

"One remains unsurprised given your lack of talent and poor stature," the professor replied as he began taking notes.

But Cloud didn't seem bothered as he went on; "i've come back from the future."

"I see." Hojo began poking him with things now.

What was this nonsense? Boy clearly had a concussion.

"If I could do things differently, I would. Would you do things differently if you could?"

"No. Everything action I perform is perfectly calculated to produce the most desirable outcome."

"Ever since I left home to join SOLDIER," (Hojo snorted here), "i've made nothing but mistakes."

JENOVA, this boy was depressing, Hojo thought as the boy mindlessly droned on about his pathetic life. He'd have to break out the prozac after this session. Criminy.

"You chart says you are from Nibelheim," Hojo inquired absent-mindedly.

Boy was probably inbred. Or the village idiot. Possibly both.

"There are no pubs back home," Cloud regretfully ruminated.

"Who taught you to fight? Have you received any mako treatment in the past?" Hojo interrupted.

But Cloud wasn't interested in discussing that subject. If this were his dream they'd talk about what _he_ wanted to talk about. And right now the only thing on his mind was what had been pumped from his stomach.

"We had to make our own booze in the bathtub," he began, about to launch into an impressive and thoroughly unwelcome explanation on how to achieve aforementioned practice.

"And I bet you were terrible at it," Hojo mockingly interrupted swiftly, knowing were this stream of consciousness would end.

Cloud instantly began sobbing.

"**You are the worst kind of drunk," Zack informed his friend.**

"Stop being mean to me!" Cloud shouted angrily at no one. Well, Hojo assumed it was no one since he'd not been horrible to the boy—merely pointing out the obvious.

"I was perfectly happy in that backwater bar with my barf lies. You think this makes me happier?" Cloud muttered sombrely to his imaginary voices.

"Silence!" Hojo shouted, them remembered he was supposed to be 'nice' with the cadets, and lowered his voice. "Wait, boy. You say the more unhappy you are the more these voices speak to you?"

Cloud nodded.

"This could mean something..." Hojo muttered thoughtfully, then turned to the intercom. "Prepare the onions for Project S."

With a metallic snap the restraints constricting Cloud's wrists were released. Hojo wrapped a sphygmomanometer around Cloud's upper arm and released him to the lab.

"You are an interesting specimen." the professor said in that sincere tone he'd not used since he'd suggested the Hollander dog-brain theory. "I will require you to return at a later date. Your superior officer will be notified."

"**Hoo, Cloud's got a date!" Aerith jibbed.**

As the professor wrote a brief note Cloud began examining the room. It was larger than he'd remembered the ShinRa labs to be. Then again he'd never had Hojo as his physician during his failure-ific stint in the military, and Hollander had always been bitching about "limited resources" and how "Hojo could blow him". He walked up besides a human study skeleton twisted in the throes of an agonising death.

"What's this?" Cloud asked, examining a whiteboard covered with illegible handwriting.

"Those are the rules. You'd best obey them whilst in my lab."

Cloud looked closer. "No sailboating."

"'No screaming!'"

"No salting...?"

"'No suing!'"

Cloud wrinkled his nose. "This is indecipherable."

"Look! It's perfectly simple," Hojo snapped.

Walking over the professor pointed to the first sentence. "No screaming!"

Then pointed to the second, "no suing!"

And the third; "... none of that! Or any of the others!"

Stupid, insolent brats! Did no one understand the tribulations he had to endure tending to these worthless human children? His handwriting was _not_ indecipherable; his lab assistants could attest for that! However, they were refusing to meet his eye for some odd reason.

While the blonde boy had his back turned still inspecting his _intricate _and_ sophisticated_ handwriting, Hojo upturned a vial of green liquid into a syringe. With no mind for warning the poor lad he jabbed it into the boy's unsuspecting arm and emptied the substance with a press off his thumb.

"Owww!"

Cloud silenced himself as Hojo pointed at the first 'no sailboating' rule.

"Congratulations, boy," the professor congratulated the boy in an entirely non-congratulatory tone. "You've just joined SOLDIER."

Rubbing his arm Cloud mumbled to himself. "Could've warned me."

"**Eh," one of his two imaginary friends shrugged.**

Hojo levelled a look at the cadet as he unwrapped the sphygmomanometer. "Talking to the voices again?"

"If they're my friends they should warn me about these things. Like your prowling around behind my back like a tramp going through the bins behind the Honeybee Inn."

"I see," Hojo's face darkened with malicious delight. Then he spun around and his face was as happy as a sunny day. "Well, i'll be seeing you again, Mr. Strife! Please feel free to drop in any time you may feel overwhelmed. I will be more than happy to lend my services."

"Err, sure."

Cloud quickly hurried from the room.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

With the oddest revelation beginning to creep into the back of his mind, Cloud walked the deserted hall. It was _almost_ as if this were real and not some fevered drunken nightmare? Well, at least it was something interesting this time, so he may as well enjoy it, until a phantom Sephiroth inevitably jumped him from behind LIKE THIS—

Nothing.

"_Hmm, you win this round, imaginary Sephiroth," _Cloud thought, blue eyes shiftily peering left and right.

"Spike?"

Cloud whipped around to that oh-so familiar voice. That patronising nickname he'd come to love so much. There, sat in a chair across the hall with the porcupine hair, was the man he'd wanted to call his best friend. The one who had saved him and the one who had shared all his memories with. Sephiroth may have been his idol, but Zack was his hero.

"**Oh, Cloud. I didn't know you thought of me like that. You're making me blush!" the Zack in his head giggled.**

The real SOLDIER Second approached him carefully. "I head you got sent to Hojo but didn't believe it. Are you okay?"

Cloud couldn't say anything. The porcupine had his tongue as his jaw hung open uselessly. The intrusive Zack in his head didn't have such a problem.

"**Damn, i'm hot! I wish I were you, Cloud, so I could look at me. Cloud! Cloud! Look at me! Do you see that? Dayummn."**

"**I'mma get me summa that," Aerith catcalled.**

Zack looked taller. That was odd. Cloud could have sworn there were of a similar height the last time they had been together. Heck, he'd been wearing the guy's damn uniform for a year whilst he'd been loopy in the head! That's when Cloud finally took a good look at himself.

"Eyah!" He jumped dramatically, missing the concerned frown pass over his friend's face.

He was short! And weedy! His arms where like sticks and his feet looked disproportionately large. And his head felt too heavy, and his nose was too small, and his voice was all weird. And what the hell was going on with his balance‽

"Oh, my Gaia! You actually did it!" He shouted up through the ceiling as if that weren't the opposite direction of the lifestream. "Arseholes!"

The voices in his head wisely kept quiet.

"Keep the noise down out there!" the lab door rattled as Hojo shouted.

Zack silently laughed to himself. He walked over to the young boy who was preoccupied with shaking his fists up at the ceiling. Throwing an arm around the blonde's neck he said contentedly: "let's get you some rest before training begins."

Cloud's hands slowly fell limply to his sides. He tilted his head like a confused puppy. "Training?"

"Yeah!" Zack had the biggest, happiest most proudest smile across his face. "I knew you could do it, Spike! You're a SOLDIER candidate now! And guess who's your mentor?"

Cloud couldn't move.

"Zachary Fair!" the SOLDIER tightened his arm around Cloud neck. "This is great, i've never had a trainee before. Just wait until I tell everyone!"

Cloud squirmed and struggled as his friend proceeded to give him the biggest and most painful noogie he had ever received. He couldn't stop the shocked exclamation escaping his mouth:

"HOLY SHIT! This is _real_‽"

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**a/n:** I love Black Books. See of you can catch all the references I make during this fic.


	3. Pinball

**Auth****or:** Zhampy  
**Rating:** T / PG-15  
**Genre:** Humour/Romance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own a single thing in the FFVII Compilation. See if you can spot all the references I steal throughout this fic!  
**Summery:** A cynical yet happy Cloud takes to his training under Zack and is introduced to Angeal and Genesis. During an afternoon break they notice all the high scores on the recreational pinball machine are a "DRH"-Doctor Hojo! The SOLDIERs begin to believe Hojo ain't such a bad guy after all, much to the good doctor's dismay.  
**Contains:** Main pairing is **Cloud/Sephiroth** with a **Zack/Aerith** side-dish and some other minor pairings. Some OOCness for humourous purposes, AR, couple of OCs, and occasional foul language.

**a/n:** It's my birthday today, so here's a present from me to you! (I don't think I've quite got the hang of this birthday thing). If you don't like it, it's not returnable. No refunds!

**Modus Operandi  
**_Episode Three – Pinball_

Zack had a desk.

Granted it was in a large open-plan room with numerous other SOLDIER Seconds desks but it was still quite the unexpected revelation. Though it did make sense as a mentor-SOLDIER had paperwork to file.

"Um," Zack looked wholly uncomfortable sat behind his desk. But Cloud waited for him to continue with a ghost of a smirk dusting his features. "I have to reprimand you for being drunk during teaching hours. I mean it's cool if you wanna to get drunk—i'll come wif ya! But only off duty, y'know?"

"Sorry," the grin burst out across his face.

"C'mooon!" Zack whined. "You can't smile when i'm lecturing you, man!"

The SOLDIER at the next desk over laughed as Zack folded over the front of his own desk, hiding his face. "You are bad at this."

"Shuttup, Kunsel," Zack muttered from his facedown position (on his desk).

"Even I could do a better job," a red-headed man to Zack's other side said (from behind his own desk).

"Ha! Even Johnny says he could do better. Lowest of the low, Zack," Kunsel jabbed his friend in the side.

Zack squirmed.

"Just do it how Angeal would do it."

What? Who? Since when did Zack have a mentor? Huh? What's going on? Something's changed! _Aaaaaaaaaa!_

"Don't give me advice in front of my mentee," Zack whined again while rolling his head, his hair moving like an actual honest-to-Gaia porcupine. Holy shit.

"But what would Angeal do?" Kunsel persisted.

"Uh, well," Zack lifted his head (from his desk) and thoughtfully stared up at the ceiling fan. "Well, i'm well-behaved! He's never had to say anything."

The other SOLDIER shook his head ruefully before turning back to his work (at his desk). "You're not getting the full mentor experience, friend."

Johnny leaned over (his desk) to grab Cloud's attention. "You'll give Zack his full experience, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Cloud smirked evilly. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Guys!" Zack squeaked loudly and pounded his fists onto his desk in an overly dramatic, yet controlled fashion. "Stop giving him ideas!"

The room erupted into a cheerful laughter. It was a nice atmosphere—friendly and welcoming. Something Cloud had never experienced with his military misadventure. The smug grins on his two dead friends where practically visible in the back of his mind. He felt comfortable already. Comfortable enough to touch things that weren't his. A small vase holding a single flower caught his eye.

"**Hey, put that down!" Head-Zack ordered.**

"Hey, put that down!" the real Zack swiped the tiny vase and returned it to its home at the leftmost corner (of his desk). "That's very special."

"Looks pretty dead?" Cloud replied knowingly.

"I don't get much free time to leave the compound," Zack explained, but when it was clear his friend didn't understand he continued. "I bought it from a pretty girl In the slums."

"Cost him 500 gil! And it died a week later!"

"No one said Zack was smart with his money."

"Or could resist a pretty face."

"Ah, that explains why he picked Cloud as his apprentice."

From their desks Kunsel and Johnny were talking over Zack as if he had popped out to use the loo or something. Evidently the man didn't mind as he continued to clear away his belongings into a desk drawer.

"Well, if you're going to get the full experience I should introduce you to Angeal, huh?" Zack grinned happily as he got to his feet.

There was a bounce in the dark-haired SOLDIER's step as he lead Cloud from the room.

Still can't believe Zack has a desk.

"**Believe it."**

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

As a worthless cadet his type wasn't welcome in the ShinRa Tower. So Cloud felt rather smug as he and Zack rode the lift up passed the eleventh floor. Quite the accomplishment! Clinging to his dead-now-not-dead friend like a parasite and sucking for all his worth. Such talent!

Twenty-third floor—going—gone!

Only high-ranked SOLDIERs had access to the Tower. Mostly all military personnel lived and worked in the compound surrounding three-quarters the base of the obviously compensating building. Implies a lot about President Shinra, don't you think? Regardless.

Thirtieth floor passing.

_Wheeee!_

As a cadet he'd never set foot any higher than the foyer and its opportunistic gift shop; sending hilariously terrible lies of the great fortune he'd encountered in Midgar to his mother on the back of a cheap postcard.

Thirty-ninth floor—aaaaaaaand—fortieth floor!

_ding_!

"You'll love Angeal," Zack was telling him as they moved down the hall.

Into the recreation room they went. The one room ShinRa had allowed some of its hardest workers to relax in. One place the company would reward those who risked their lives for a bunch of pompous shareholders sipping wine and laughing like horses.

And it was a shithole.

Absolutely awful.

A bunch of ratty old chairs positioned around worn tables. The walls had some serious damp going on or something, despite no other room in the entire tower showing signs of damp. The sick-green carpet was worn and had all sorts of gross stuff stuck to it that Cloud didn't even want to imagine originally had been; the windows smeared with handprints (what the hell?) and grease‽ Oh! But there _was_ a massive flatscreen television! Too bad it was hanging on the wall at an angle and had terrible static lines interrupting whatever programme was on. Also that programme was ShinRa propaganda.

And by Gaia did it stink. Stank like a Sector 8 tramp using garlic to clean out his toe jam. Like a room full of sweaty men that'd not been cleaned since the Cetra had been alive. And, by all that he held dear, Zack was leading him further into this fetid hive of rancidness to two gentlemen, shining like beacons of cleanliness in this foul habitat.

"_Eeaargh!_" Cloud couldn't help but choke on his own saliva as the stench assaulted his nostrils and strangled his own oesophagus.

This immediately drew the startled attention of the men occupying the only comfy seats in the place.

"Who's the cannon fodder?" the man in the red coat snidely indicated Cloud.

"This is my mentee!" Zack announced loudly enough for the entire room to hear. "His name's Cloud. Say hello to Lieutenant General Angeal and Genesis. If you don't already know: Lieutenant Genesis is head of Second Class and Lieutenant Angeal is head of Third Class."

The dark-haired SOLDIER they had initially approached smiled richly. He looked strikingly similar to Zack. As if he were Zack from twenty years in the future. Hold on a tic!

"Are you a time traveller too?" Cloud blurted before he could stop himself.

"**Ahahahahah!"**

"**Heeheehee!"**

"Hah!" the man laughed loudly.

Clearly talking to Aerith and Zack in his head was already messing with his self-control.

"Uh! He came from Hojo's yesterday. Might still be a bit queasy after his first mako injection," Zack petted Cloud's hair gently. "Be cool, Spike."

"So you're the one Zack has been clamouring about all this time. Good to meet you, kiddo." Angeal shook his hand, confident and powerful. The man had a distinct paternal aura about him. Cloud liked him already.

Genesis simply held up his own gloved hand limply in greeting. "'sup. Sit down."

Cloud's superior officer, Thompson, was keeping to himself in a far corner of the room. Propping himself up by the two SOLDIER Firsts, Cloud levelled a look at the Captain, letting the smuggest, most patronising smirk grace his boyish face. It looked thoroughly foreign on him and Thompson was mad. Seriously mad. Like, beetroot mad. Like, finding-a-raisin-in-your-rocky-road mad.

"Man, what's his problem?" Zack eyed the angry man watching their group.

"Rumour has it he's having an affair," Angeal said quietly as he seated himself.

Cloud could barely hold back an amused snort as he perched himself at the end of the sofa Zack had settled on.

"What's this?" Genesis' head snapped in the direction of the conversation. "Why've I not heard this before?"

Briefly Angeal looked shocked, them grinned at his friend. "Maybe you've fallen out of the loop."

"Not true!" Genesis snapped.

Zack leaned forward closer to the redheaded First, holding a hand up to his mouth all secretive-like. "It was with Rude," he informed his superior, whose eyes widened at this delicious gossip.

"Close," Angeal countered softly. "It was that young boy, Reno, I think his name was. Candidate for Turks."

"Ew!" Zack baulked. "Kid's Cloud's age!"

"That's what I heard."

"Yeah, always knew he was gay."

"They where seen in Wall Market together."

"Dude likes to do the kid up in dresses."

"I wonder what other fetishes he has."

"Freak."

"But don't spread it around."

"Genesis," Angeal pointed his finger at his friend akin to how one would an unruly puppy. "Did you hear that? Don't spread it around, okay? _Don't_."

"Hmmphh, yeah, whatever," the man flicked his hair and crossed his arms and legs in an overly flamboyant show. But he couldn't resist sending the object of their conversation a haughty look and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

The young man with the humongous forehead shot to his feet and stomped from the room, slamming the door so hard on his way out that it bounced on its hinges. Every single person in the room fell silent.

"Ah, he's just pissed about his receding hairline," was Genesis' breathy explanation as he luxuriously ran a hand through his own thick locks.

"Balding _and_ having an affair with a Turk?" Angeal murmured thoughtfully.

Cloud had never vibrated harder than when he was damming back a reservoir-sized bout of laughter.

"This seat's moving," Zack bluntly said as he examined his vaguely vibrating sofa curiously.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**Scene 3**  
**Take: 11  
**LATER THAT AFTERNOON.

"Hey, hey!"

All eyes would turn to him as Genesis entered a room. No matter what that room may have been filled with—ducks, geese, mice, chocobos, blind helper-moogles—all eyes immediately on Genesis without fail. The Crimson Lieutenant would have it no other way. So it came as no surprise when the man kicked the door open that every SOLDIER in the recreational room looked their way. The crimson man swaggered over to his usual seat, mindlessly swatting away his fellow comrades as he fell down with a _thwomp._

Cloud followed Zack as he was learning to do. It would probably be best not to show his hand to the two Firsts. Not quite yet. Training had gone well all things considered, despite the fact he'd spent most of his time flat on his _face_. It had only been a single day and he was already pissed about his weedy little boy arms.

"**Sorry, bro." Zack didn't sound apologetic.**

"**Thems the breaks." Neither did Aerith.**

_Mmph_, Cloud huffed as he plopped down in a chair removed from his little group of superior officers.

Evidently Angeal noticed his little unamused display and offered a friendly smile. "You did well today, kiddo. Excellent form and you handled your blade with natural talent."

"Yeah..." Cloud grumpily watched the floor, playing footsie with a ball of dust.

"And that flip was cool!" Zack butted in eagerly. "You have to teach me that! Well... not the falling-on-your-face bit, but that first part!"

"You're supposed to be teaching Cloud these things, not the other way around, Pup," Angeal chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, well," Zack wriggled impatiently in his seat, "that was pretty sweet though!"

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Genesis muttered pompously as he gazed at the back of his own hand.

Why the heck was Genesis such a tremendous ass?

"**It is pretty damn tremendous, if you ask me," Aerith suggested happily.**

"**Hey, eyes on me only!" Zack admonished her.**

It _was_ pretty fine... no! Wait, no! Why was he thinking of the lieutenant's backside now?

"Damn it, guys!" Cloud scolded his headmates. Everyone turned to him; Angeal with a creased brow, Genesis as if he'd just been slapped and Zack of confused trepidation. "Uhhhhh..." he really had no explanation.

"Hhmmpphh." The one to break the awkward staring was Genesis. Weird kid had been blurting random stuff out all afternoon.

Still looking mildly confused Zack stood slowly as if he were worried he'd startle Cloud like a newborn chocobo. "Okaaaaaay... well, I'm going over here now."

"Hey, wait," Genesis followed Zack over to the only pinball machine in the room and immediately began telling him what to do. "No, no, hold the plunger back. Go on, put your gil in, press start."

Angeal shook his head as his best friend began telling his protégée how to play such an exceedingly simple game.

"Hit the button. No, no! Aim for the moogle's antennae!"

Beeping and ringing noises.

"Wait until the ball's below the chocobo's beak to—no! You're doing it wrong. All wrong!"

The black-haired Second was beginning to look rather miffed with his direct superior bearing down over him and critiquing his slick pinball skills.

"It's gonna—push it now! Oh! So close. Okay, this time wait until the ball is just _above_ the chocobo's beak to flip."

Gensis missed as the boy rolled his eyes.

"When the cactuar has its arms up hit the left—got it?—_the_ _left_ side, bounce it off that bumper, ricochet into that corner, let it drop, flip it to the top and land it in that basket, wait a sec and jump it! Let it roll passed those stars and flip after the third one—you got it!"

This time he missed the irritated sigh.

"Oh. It didn't pay out."

"I'd have won that," Zack annoyingly pointed out. "Twenty gil."

"Don't blame me, comrade," Genesis held his hands up in a non-confrontational manner. "Blame ShinRa. They're the ones making all the dough, am I right? Hey!" The Crimson Lieutenant then walked over to some men playing table football to impart more of his invaluable knowledge. "I hope you picked yellow shirts..."

Zack grabbed either side of the pinball machine and tried to lift it off the floor. He was grunting fantastically when Angeal hopped over.

"I want my money back," Zack said.

"Sorry, Pup," Angeal replied placidly.

Cloud joined the pair. "Sounds like you shouldn't listen to Genesis, huh?" What a knob.

"Ugh, don't tell me about it!" Zack muttered.

"I hope those aren't words of treason," Angeal eyed the pair with a smooth grin.

"... you have to twist your wrist..." Genesis could be heard advising in the background.

Angeal produced twenty gil from the ether. "How about a real game?"

"Yeah!" Zack looked elated. Beyond happy. Exuberant. Like a puppy with a new bone, or a cat with a fresh catch. Joyful. Euphoric.

"**I just really like pinball okay?" Head-Zack explained uncomfortably. "It's not weird or anything..."**

"**'It's not weird' to take your girlfriend on a date to the arcade and spend all _her_ money on pinball."**

"**You enjoyed it too!"**

"**I left! I don't who you were getting money off."**

"**... say what?"**

"Gonna get the highest score," still-alive Zack was saying.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Angeal murmured too quietly while inserting the money.

"... anticipate where the ball will be when you..." Genesis again.

Skilfully Zack beat the game and earned his lost money back, splitting it with Angeal.

"Whoa!" Cloud watched as the badly rendered, flailing moogles and cactuars in top hats danced off the screen leaving the high scores behind. "No wonder the Lieutenant said you wouldn't win!"

"You said I wouldn't win, sir?" Turning the puppy-dog eyes on, Zack looked at his mentor sadly.

Caught out. "Well, no—it's not..." Damn! Cloud could hear like a bat!

"I want my money back," Zack petulantly held out an expecting hand. With a defeated sigh Angeal passed over his ten gil. Worked every time. Then looking over the scores Zack's eyes widened. "No wonder I didn't win!"

Angeal rolled his eyes.

"... don't get snippy, I'm only trying to help!..."

"The _lowest_ score is over sixteen million," Cloud poked at the screen. "Amazing."

Zack pushed his face into the machine. "Highest score... what kind of number is this‽"

"I've never seen so many zeros," Angeal said slowly.

"I don't know. Remember that karaoke competition when you sang—"

"Zack! We are not speaking of that again!" Cough, cough. "But this is rather impressive."

Disregarding Zack's silent mirth and Angeal's dented pride, Cloud continued to examine the pinball machine. "Someone's got _a lot_ of time on their hands. They're all a 'DRH'."

A lot of free time voluntarily spent in this shithole? Someone didn't have their head on straight. Christ, it still stank in here.

Angeal shrugged. "Any guesses?" he asked conversationally.

Cloud and Zack huddled down together, whispering and casting glances at the Lieutenant as if he were trespassing on their private conversation. One that _he'd_ initiated. Kids these days. Slowly they lifted their heads in unison having come to some form of agreement.

"Dio Ricardo Hernandez?"

"Dio hasn't visited ShinRa since the Great Sephiroth-Genesis LOVELESS débâcle at Gold Saucer," Angeal replied.

"The what?"

"Maybe Dolores Regina Haughtington XXIII?" Zack suggested.

"Crazy cat lady's not allowed in the building."

"I think it's kinda rude to talk about the President's wife in that way..."

"Oh! Doctor Hollander!" Cloud pointed out triumphantly.

"Can't be Hollander. He doesn't have dexterous thumbs."

"So..." Their heads turning slowly, Cloud and Zack looked at each other.

"Hm?" Angeal hadn't quite boarded their train of thought.

"Doctor... Hojo?"

Suddenly the room fell silent and every man present dived for cover behind chairs, under tables or behind other men hiding behind chairs or under tables. Well, at least Cloud now knew the trigger for clearing a room.

"**Don't use your newfound powers for evil," Head-Zack whispered as if he were as nervous as those in the room. Despite being very dead and very bodiless.**

"**With great power comes great responsibility," Aerith said sagely. "You certainly shouldn't use it to get Zack out of bed in the morning. Or if you want the last rash of bacon. Or if you're just tired and want him to push off."**

Angeal and this Zack were the exception to this rule. Angeal had never had to suffer under the spindly scientist so had little to fear, and the current Zack had the memory span a goldfish would be jealous of.

"...stand with your feet on either side of the table..." now Genesis was talking to thin air having not noticed everyone was hiding.

Eventually people realised that there was no madman with an oversized novelty syringe chasing them around the room to the Benny Hill theme. They slowly emerged brushing off imaginary dust and whistling innocently. Some even went back over to listen to Genesis who still hadn't broken from his tirade this entire time.

"Guess it makes sense," Zack pondered. "Dude's a scientist. Guess you could use science to play, huh?"

Cloud shrugged. Why the hell was he being asked this. Though he could hardly imagine the sour professor spending time in a room with lots of his victims—ahem—patients, playing _pinball_. Actually no, Cloud _could_ imagine that and it _wouldn't_ surprise him that the oily old psycho would psyche out his victims—ahem—patients through pinball.

"That is so cool," Zack announced.

"What‽"

"I didn't know Hojo was so talented." Zack seemed genuinely impressed.

Cloud baulked. "I don't think you understand—"

"To get all the highest scores."

"You can't really think—"

"Good for him."

"But Hojo's a bas—"

"Wow."

"Who's that?" a random man in a Second Class uniform wandered over.

"Professor Hojo beat the crap out of this game," Zack excitedly explained.

Soon enough a crowd had gathered around the pinball machine all "oohing" and "ahhing" at this impressive display of dominance over an arcade game. Cloud's jaw was literally (okay, not literally) resting on the floor. He looked over to Angeal who didn't look the least bit surprised, as if he were accustomed to this sort of idiocy.

"It's Hojo!" Cloud said desperately.

"I know," one of the men replied. "I'm as surprised as you."

"Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all."

"No one who likes pinball could be evil."

"I've never seen him in here before."

"Maybe he's just shy."

"He is pretty short. He's probably intimidated by all of us."

"Excruciatingly painful mako injections must his way of making friends."

"And restraining us to the table so we can't leave him."

"That's so sad. We should make an effort to welcome him."

"..."

Shock had actually robbed Cloud of the ability to speak.

Zack thrust his arm high in the air above the crowd. "Permission to invite the Professor to pinball night?" he asked his Lieutenant General.

"But we don't have a pinball night?" an anonymous SOLDIER pointed out.

"Then i'll start one!" Zack announced. "Annual pinball night starts tonight! I don't know what time."

Cloud facepalmed.

Zack nailed Genesis' turned back with his kicked puppy-dog impression. "Permission, sir?"

While the crimson man didn't acknowledged his comrade he did non-committally wave a hand over his shoulder and mutter; "yeah, right, whatever. Now, since you didn't pick yellow shirts and this guy has no legs..."

Placing a hand on his friend's shoulder (which was uncomfortable seeing as the man was currently at least two heads taller than himself), Cloud asked; "why are you doing this?"

"I, uh, need easy money. Flowers are expensive, you know! I'm gonna ask him how to play at my check-up tonight. Bet he's got some great advice!" Zack admitted.

Cloud could only facepalm harder.

"Alright everyone," Zack shouted. "Operation Be-Nice-To-Hojo is a go!"

"That is a terrible name," one man said.

"Gaia help us all if Zack ever becomes General," a second replied.

"I'd be a good General," Zack pouted.

The crowd instantly descended in a rabble arguing over Operation Be-Nice-To-Hojo.

"Oh, don't worry! If I ever see you on the battlefield I won't help you out if you're gonna be such a child about it!" Now Genesis had pissed off his so-called table football friends as he threw his arms in the air, dramatically throwing the table across the room.

Pause.

"Now you see what I have to deal with," Angeal said flatly.

Cloud couldn't have had more sympathy for the man.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

As usual, Hojo was waiting impatiently in one of the smaller laboratory rooms for a routine SOLDIER check-up. Not that he were impatient because he enjoyed doling physicals. It wasn't like he savoured toying with these so-called military elite, using their bodies as his own scientific playground rearranging organs and... heh heh heh.

Hojo allowed a rare smile to grace his bony face. "I love my job."

"Doctor!"

"Eagh!" Hojo spun around to face the now open door. "Do not sneak up on me," he ordered brusquely.

Then to his horror the SOLDIER smiled.

_Smiled_.

He _smiled_ at Hojo.

The man didn't immediately cower, or fear for his life. Didn't think that angering the professor would result in a lifetime of infertility and/or mako poisoning. That he could be drummed out of the SOLDIER programme and immediately sequestered as a lab specimen being forced to grow a second head and four arses.

"You won't be smiling when it's burrito night," Hojo muttered darkly to himself.

"I'm sorry, what?" the young man asked.

Damn SOLDIERs and their enhanced hearing! If he weren't such a fantastic scientist he wouldn't have this problem.

"Take your clothes off and sit on the table."

"A gentleman would at least buy me dinner first," the man grinned as he began unclothing.

Hojo stared.

Just... stared.

Squashing his irritation and the slight feeling that something was off, Hojo took up his notes. "You are Chapman, correct?"

The young Second Class hopped up onto the cool metal table after covering himself with the provided medical shawl. The kind with the nice airy backs. "That's me!"

The boy was too chirpy. Hojo jotted down a little red cross besides the man's name.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

_Another_ red cross marked the chart as the latest SOLDIER left the room. Hojo shook his pen to check if it still had plenty of ink left. Lots of bad marks this session. Something strange was happening and he didn't like not knowing what. Probably nothing that couldn't be fixed with MORE MAKO however. Nevertheless, he indicated sharply for the next man to enter the room.

"Disrobe and take a seat," he snapped aggressively with his back turned.

"What, no foreplay?"

That cheeky voice was Zachary Fair according to his notes. Hojo pre-emptively made a red slash over the young man's notes. "You have already started off on my bad side," the professor warned, though he didn't know why he should.

The spiky-haired youth laughed loudly and jovially.

This was _not_ right.

But the boy had clothed himself with the provided gown and seated himself.

With little ceremony, Hojo jammed a syringe into Zack's arm.

"Ow!" He winced then shut his hole as the illegible handwritten rules were pointed out to him. He couldn't read them but assumed they went along the lines of "shut up, numbnuts'.

Then recalling what his fellow SOLDIERs had said back in the recreational room about horrifically painful injections and friendship, Zack instantly brightened. Of course. The man was notoriously shy apparently. He had to do something to ease the professor's worries and show that he was _more_ than happy to engage in a mutual friendship. Heck, the professor could even be his pinball sensei.

"Haha, you're a riot, doctor!" Zack clapped Hojo on the back so hard that it knocked the man's glasses from his face. "Ah! I'm sorry, sir, let me get—"

Before he could apologise for the excessive force of his friendly gesture (Angeal was always telling him to watch his strength) and retrieve his new friend's glasses, the professor held up a hand stopping him dead.

Now he'd upset his friend. He didn't like upsetting his friends. He had to make it up somehow. Maybe he'd buy the scientist a book on pinball. Yeah, that'd do nicely! But for now he should at the very least pick the glasses up.

"I really can't apologise enough, sir!"

Bending down his head suddenly began to spin from the injection, and before he could regain his balance he fell to his knees right over the...

**CRUNCH**

"Eeeeyikes."

Before even someone with superhuman speed could react Hojo had snatched a scalpel from the side and thrust it in Zack's face.

"You insolent little whelp! Get out of my sight before I slice you open and perform a marionette show with your innards!"

"C'mon, sir!" Zack begged pitifully. He were beginning to believe Hojo was not the cool guy he'd come to imagine. "I just need to make some easy money. I've gotta buy some floweeerghs—err—weights and beef joints and err, porn and other manly stuff." To emphasise his point he began flexing.

Hojo stood silently, his head turning ever-so-slowly at an angle.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

"Aaarrrghhhh!"

Cloud was almost knocked tits-over-arse as the black streak sped by. He was taking full advantage of his brown nosing as he, Angeal and Genesis where making their way to the recreational room. The three stopped dead in their tracks in silence, stunned into a stupor.

"Was that...?" Angeal asked carefully.

"A butt-naked Zachary Fair," Genesis cackled gleefully. "Bare as the day he was born!"

It was nine in the evening that Zack had decided to schedule the first annual (actually weekly) pinball night, and perhaps just to humour the young man, Angeal and Genesis had deigned to show their faces. The recreational room was usually closed to SOLDIERs after 7pm due to security reasons or some such nonsense. Hardly, Cloud thought. The neighbouring floors simply needed some silence to get any work done, and they could hardly do that with a bunch of boars and apes stamping about.

Not too much later Zack popped up behind the group, this time fully—if not hurriedly—clothed, thankfully.

"Um." He scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed flush rising to his ears. "We're not inviting Professor Hojo to play pinball. I got the impression he doesn't like games."

"You're an idiot, Zack," Cloud promptly asserted.

Angeal and Genesis only nodded in agreement.

Without much incident (one of them tripped—guess who?) the group reached the recreational room to be greeted with the sounds of an active pinball machine, dulled by the closed door, but still audible over the silent hallway.

"Heyyy, someone's playing," Zack scowled indignantly. "How dare they ruin annual pinball night, That's cheating!"

The Second stomped off ahead of the group then immediately reeled back upon entering the room, all the annoyance draining from his posture. And Cloud couldn't blame him for doing so.

Oh, my Gaia. Oh, my Gaia! Why had he not prepared for this? He knew it was coming! It had to eventually! _Ah, shit!_ Shit, shit! Shit! Shit on a stick.

The man was tall. So damn tall. Like, why would anyone need to be that tall? It had been bad enough when he'd been an adult, but now he had the body of a puny sixteen-year-old and the density of a rake. If he tried to throw a punch it'd be like tossing a handful of mashed potato at a brick wall. He guessed Sephiroth would be a little annoyed if he tried that.

"Hey, Seph!" Zack saluted with a huge grin. "Did you come to join pinball night? I'm sorry, it's been cancelled."

"Bad form that you started before anyone got here, though," Genesis jokingly prodded at his taller friend.

"I should reset the machine again," Zack said as he trotted over, oblivious to the green gaze following him, then stopped. "Even though it's cancelled. Nah, I should do it anyway."

The young Second reached around and began twiddling with a screwdriver he'd brought especially for the occasion. Even though the event was cancelled he couldn't resist checking out Sephiroth's game. The General never visited the recreation room and Zack had no idea he even liked pinball. As his curiosity had gotten the better of him and given him an unfair advantage of a player's skill, he would sit out the next pinball night.

"Um, um," he spluttered. All the high scores were back; all signed as 'DRH' again. Those weren't there earlier he'd wiped the machine! Heck, one of them was so high it were glitching the screen out. "Er, sir?"

"Holy hell!" Genesis popped over. The man looked over between the machine and Sephiroth a few times, then his gaze shifted to Zack with dawning recognition. "Hahah! Oh, my Goddess! You actually went and harassed Hojo over this. You really are an idiot."

Zack pouted.

"Why'd you do it?" Angeal asked.

Sephiroth didn't reply, his head simply titling slightly as he recalled Hojo's foul mood and all the people disrespecting him that day. "No reason," he finally said at length. Then his eyes pinned on the unknown cadet.

_Gaaahh_, was about the most intelligible thing Cloud's mind could produce.

"**Danger! Danger, Cloud Strife!" Zack's arms would've been flailing if he'd had any.**

"Oh!" Zack suddenly remembered he had his trainee in the room. He slung his arm around the blonde boy's shoulders in a friendly display. "This is Cloud, my protégée! He's an Officer Cadet, SOLDIER candidate."

To Cloud's surprise, Sephiroth looked at him with something that could vaguely pass as amused sympathy. "Yes, I know."

_Ahhhhh! He knows!_

Zack practically slapped himself on the forehead for his stupidity. "Of course."

Oh, yeah. Guess it did make sense that as General, Sephiroth would know about every SOLDIER and anyone moving through the ranks.

"**Durr."**

"Oh, shut up."

"Excuse me?"

Cloud crunched his eyes closed. _Aarghh, I hate you guys._

"**Love ya, babe."**

Zack immediately came to his rescue. Tightening his grip he said; "oh, don't mind Cloud, he's—"

"He's weird," Genesis bluntly interrupted.

"But talented," Angeal said in an effort to interject something positive.

Zack moved forward with him, probably all-too unaware about the sudden anxiety that had gripped him and robbed him of speech for a second time that day.

Cloud's heart was beating so hard that if he were on the outside inspecting himself he would swear that his eyeballs were bugging out of his head rhythmically. "Damn, Cloud! What's happening to your eyes‽ " Zack exclaimed in horror.

Nothing registered in his mind as he looked on, wide-eyed, like a deer caught in Sephiroth's proverbial headlights.

"Hi," Cloud squeaked.

Oh, fantastic. That's just great. That's the best you could do, Cloud? Honestly. Could you have sounded more lame? No salute? No confident grin? No shine in your eye that says you could take him? No. No, of course not. You said 'hi'. Good job. Would you like your balls delivered to you first, or second class post? I don't think they do a 'YOU'RE AN IDIOT' class.

Angeal came to Cloud's other side and placed a comforting hand on his unoccupied shoulder. "You have to be nice to the cadets, Seph. You can't do that."

"I didn't do anything."

Genesis cackled in the background.

"You know what you did," Angeal said sternly, but the General looked slightly puzzled.

"I'll take your word for it. It won't happen again," he said anyway. "Regardless, we should leave before security get on our case."

Cloud's eyes rolled to the sky as he were spun around and pushed out the door. _Kill me now._

As they left the room Sephiroth followed them and allowed a wicked smile to cross his features. It had been a good day.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**a/n:** I really dislike introductory chapters! Thank god they're over now! And thanks for **reviewing**! Really lights a fire under my butt! I get working faster! Exclamation mark!


	4. Keepers of Red Elite

**Author:** Zhampy  
**Rating:** T / PG-15  
**Genre:** Humour/Romance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own a single thing in the FFVII Compilation. See if you can spot all the references I steal throughout this fic!  
**Summery:** After his sudden and humiliating meeting with Sephiroth, Cloud procures some illegal (and terrible quailty) alcohol and gets smashed. At this point he's accosted by the three fanclubs and accidentialy joins the Silver Elite.  
**Contains:** Main pairing is **Cloud/Sephiroth** with a **Zack/Aerith** side-dish and some other minor pairings. Some OOCness for humourous purposes, AR, couple of OCs, and occasional foul language.

**a/n:** Oh, hey! Getting this out took like a month, huh? I was waiting until I hit 20 reviews before starting writing the next chapter. But I ended up writing chapters seven and five instead because i'm dumb and they're my favourites. Welp. At least those are written now! And so is this one apparently.

**Modus Operandi  
**_Episode Four – Keepers of Red Elite_

That had not gone all too well. Not well at all. In his opinion, it hadn't been a huge success. On the other hand, it had not gone well. For all intents and purposes that had not been a rip-roaring success. In the end, it had not ended on a positive note There where deaf and dumb choir recitals that had gone better than that.

It had been little more than a day and he was being thrown at Sephiroth already? He was pretty sure there needed to be a warm-up period first and foremost; perhaps meeting his supporting cast and some of the more original characters. Maybe taking a stroll around and describing the layout of the area he would be spending the next episodes of his life in. Should read up and explain how the world may have changed since he'd last been in this time period.

But no. It must have been imperative that he meet the General so soon. Sephiroth was just as he'd remembered him, minus the stabbity-stabbings, the crazy-eyes and the urge to pop Cloud's head off like a tube of processed instant cheese, smear his entrails on a cracker and throw it at a wall. His bangs may have been a bit shorter though, he supposed.

Oh, and of course, he was just as insanely alluring.

Curse his treacherous teenage body.

"You've ruined me for the last time!" Cloud punched himself in the gut.

"**Whoa, there!" Aerith cautioned. "Let's not go crazy here."**

"Ooof..."

"**Yeah, man. You acted like a total doofus back there" Zack's supplied.**

"**Not helping," Aerith said.**

**Zack's nonchalant shrug was almost audible. "Cloud can't control his hormones," he said simply.**

"I don't know what you're talki—"

"**He's weak," Aerith quickly agreed.**

"You're the ones who did this to m—"

"**We must help."**

"No! You've helped me enough!"

"**I'll think of something."**

"Guys, no!"

"**Go take a cold shower or something, Cloud."**

Cloud balled his fists in impudent rage. "This is wrong, all wrong! I don't like Sephiroth. That's dumb. He's dumb." He threw his arms out so he were in the shape of a starfish. A peeved starfish. "You're all dumb! And I don't need a shower!"

"**Naw, you really do."**

"**You stink."**

Whatever retort was on the tip of his tongue died as a young secretary stumbled by him in the narrow hall with her shirt pulled over her nose and green in the face. She'd been walking just fine before she'd come adjacent with him. Now she kind of looked like she'd walked in on Palmer masturbating.

"**Nah, she doesn't quite look she's going to choke herself with her lapels when she gets back to the office."**

"**Also, thanks for that image."**

Meekly Cloud raised an arm and sniffed himself.

"Eeesh!"

Yeah, definitely needed a shower.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X- **

_Note to self: always bring deodorant to the recreation room_, Cloud reminded himself as he scrubbed away that bizarre smell of microwave hot-pocket and stale damp. He was in the communal shower but had taken one of the few more private stalls. Although this late in the evening the showers weren't busy anyway.

Annual pinball night had been a bust so he and his, er, acquaintances had gone their separate ways. Lieutenant Generals Angeal and Genesis had gone off together, and Major Zack had hurriedly arranged another meeting with his trainee that he would undoubtedly forget anyway. Lastly, General Sephiroth had gone off without a word to go howl at the moon or whatever it was he did on an evening.

And Cloud had scuttled off to hide in the showers. He held his face in his hands. Normally he stood with his head back drinking the water like an upturned turtle, but he just couldn't enjoy himself right now. Stupid, sexy Sephiroth catching him off guard like at. And _talking_ to him—how dare he! Ugh, he shouldn't think about this again, there were better things to be doing, like washing his helmet, or putting his head in a door and repeatedly closing it.

"**Yes, hurry up, Cloud. We have stuff to do," Zack's voice suddenly echoed in his head.**

With his fingers uselessly scrambling for something—anything—to cover himself with Cloud shrieked; "you follow me into the shower!? You watch me naked!?"

"**Ain't nothin' I haven't seen before, bro," his dead friend whistled.**

"**I've also seen this equipment many times before," Aerith added helpfully.**

"Aerith!?" Cloud's face burned hotter than a bonfire. "You follow me other places?"

"**We're always with you," Aerith leered with that troublesome tone again.**

"E-even when i'm on the toilet?"

"**Every time."**

"O-or when i'm in... bed?"

"**Yeeessss."**

"That's perverse!" he cried.

Cloud dashed from the empty showers, his humiliation washing off him with each leap he took toward the exit. Boy sure could move when he was escaping something.

"**Cloud!" Zack's voice sounded distant now. "You forgot your towel!"**

This exclamation was met with whistling and whooping and cameras flashing of those in the hall. There was a moment of silence before either one of the dead pair spoke up again.

"**That was kind of mean," Aerith admitted.**

**Zack laughed. "Cloud's always so easy to mess with! Now we should get going or we'll miss dead-badminton with the Griffiths. They won't buy us smoothies if we're late."**

"**Oh, no!" Aerith gasped. "Dead-smoothies are my favourite!"**

And with that, the voices disappeared into the lifestream leaving a distressed Cloud to deal with the aftermath of his little display.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X- **

Grumble, grumble. Lousy, no-good, dead friends. Cloud sulked as he mindlessly wandered around the empty halls of his barracks later that evening. He didn't want to go back to his room to be accosted by his fellow cadets who thought they were being _oh-so_ clever constantly texting him uncensored pictures of himself stark-naked.

_Pfff_. They were just jealous of his fabulous physique. They just _wished_ they had scrawny arms and awkwardly large feet and a stupid, cracking voice, the stamina of an eighty-year-old invalid, and the charisma of a dead fish.

"Oh, eww," he groaned to himself. Thinking of his sixteen-year-old body in such a sexy manner. "Is that paedophilia? It _is_ my body, but it's sixteen and i'm actually twenty-four...?"

He kind of felt like he should go take another shower now.

"Fuck it! Time to get shitfaced!"

The answer to all of life's problems.

That was one good thing about his new (old? Recycled?) body. It was much easier to get it trashed. Ah, but now where to find some alcohol. Naturally, it was banned in the barracks lest he and his fellow cadets get a little too excited. Being a higher up Zack probably had access to booze, but like hell he were going to go begging.

"Hey, naked guy," a voice whispered from somewhere. Cloud spun around but couldn't find anybody.

"I'm not naked!" he scoffed.

"I have something you may be interested in," the mystery voice continued regardless.

But Cloud wasn't in the mood. "Show yourself!"

There was a pause, followed by a sigh until the voice revealed itself. A young cadet scarcely older than himself stepped out from behind a potted plant too narrow to have hidden him. His uniform was too perfect and too new, and it had all sorts of unregulated dangly doo-dads hanging from it. He had dark black hair and shifty, narrowed eyes, and it appeared that he were attempting to grow a moustache out, if the scant spread of dark shadow above his upper lip was any clue.

_I feel your pain_, Cloud sympathised. _I could never grow any body hair either_.

"Got something that may interest you," the suspicious cadet repeated.

"Are you propositioning me?"

"...no."

"Hm. Yeah, okay. Got something that'll make me forget today?"

"I've got something that'll make you forget the rest of the week."

"If it's a blow to the head, I don't want it."

"What? No. Look, I'll text you the location. We could be busted if we say it out loud," the shifty cadet whispered.

Cloud nodded, then scowled when he opened the message to see that picture of himself naked again.

"Ahahahaha," the recruit laughed. "But no, really. I got some tonk back in my room."

Without waiting for a response the young cadet began leading Cloud back in another direction, presumably back to his own room. Cloud shrugged, meh. What more did he have to lose? He had already been put on a spit with his dignity slowly being sliced from him and tenderly roasted and served to his fellow recruits. They took a long walk across into the next quarter of the barracks (the East wing from the South wing) up to rooms exactly the same as his own, and when they approached the door, he noticed the name plaque. It was double accommodations but only a single plaque? Somehow he figured he was getting himself into something he shouldn't.

Briefly looking at the door Cloud caught the cadet's name: Walker.

As he entered the room it was immediately obvious there was some shady business going on. And that it was very popular. Walker ushered him in and quickly shut the door. The smell of smoke and liquor got straight up his nose causing his eyes to water. Walker did indeed have double accommodations to himself and had fitted it out with upturned cardboard boxes serving as tables and chairs that were all occupied. Cloud figured they were easy to clear away during inspections. Walker nodded to a boy guarding the bathroom door and disappeared inside momentarily. It was... heaven.

Upon his return Walker presented a blank bottle to him. "For all your inebriation pleasure."

Cloud unscrewed the top and took a whiff. "This smells like piss in a bottle," he gagged.

"It's called 'Tonic'," Walker explained.

"Did you just take a piss in a bottle?"

"No..."

"... well, alright then," Cloud relented. Suspiciously and against his better judgement he upturned the bottle and took an almighty swig. "Graghhh, you put fire in a bottle!"

"Fire is not a brown liquid."

"Ghaaghh! … that's good stuff." He took another huge gulp. "Home brewed. In a bath."

"You're quite the connoisseur," Walker smirked.

"Just like mother used to make."

"Hey, Naked Guy, come join us!" Another cadet waved him over to the table he and some others were playing poker at.

Cloud sighed. He was never going to live that incident down. Thankfully he'd forget about it soon.

"My name is Cloud," he said as he approached.

"Naked Cloud is it then," the boy chuckled as he took a puff of whatever it was he were smoking.

"Cloud for short," Cloud insisted.

"We'll see."

Cloud watched the game play for a while, comfortable in the knowledge that his wallet was safely in his back pocket and that his arse was firmly planted to his seat. He didn't particularly feel like being essentially mugged in a poker game. Then the sudden thought struck him and with another swig he turned to Walker, who was lurking behind his chair holding a replacement bottle

"What do you want in return?" he asked suspiciously, even as he were beginning to feel tipsy so soon. People with such a questionable moustache weren't this generous.

"Nothing," Walker shrugged. He placed the bottle on the table. "Since I'm such a nice guy I just want you to enjoy yourself," he told the blonde, and then he and his twin began mingling with the other—cough—patrons.

Cloud nodded resolutely to himself, the alcoholic mix nicely burning a pleasant flame in his belly. "I'm gonna write a letter to Sefiross—to—to apologise for being so lame." He clumsily reached for a pen and grabbed a loose playing card from somewhere and set to work.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X- **

"I'm up, i'm up!"

Cloud stumbled to his feet only partially sober now. He looked around trying to gain his bearings. Direction was an intricately confusing concept, but it looked like he where outside at least. And he was remaining vertical under his own power so it couldn't be all that bad. Urp!

He turned around and vomited.

Ahh, better. God, that stuff had been revolting.

"Oh, damnit, these are my only boots!" he looked down at his now spoilt footwear.

Okay, so. Last time he were conscious he where at the barracks with that Walker fellow. That had been—what?—early evening? Nine, ten o'clock. Now it was pitch black out at the height of summer and the area smelt musty. Oh, yeah, well he had just puked. Shuffling away from his waking place he left the alley and stumbled into the streets. He were definitely above a plate somewhere. It was a busy place considering it must have been very late.

Of course, just turning around and looking at the giant mako reactor that towered over the entire plate would have been an intelligent thing to do, so Cloud didn't do that. Who cared what plate he was on—oh, plate five according to this flier—all he cared about was how the hell he got there! It was way past curfew! Oh, Gaia, Zack, please don't have to take me into your office and humiliate yourself again.

Well, this was the last time he drank anything from an unlabelled bottle acquired from a guy with the saddest damn moustache in the corps. And then all the people in the street abruptly started running around him in circles. He tried to follow them be couldn't lurch his head fast enough and the familiar ground happily greeted him with the comforting _crunch_ of his skull. He let out a puff of frustration and rearranged himself for a quick nap in the middle of the street.

Then someone was yanking on his feet. He grumpily kicked his foot out at the person but they wouldn't give up. Then someone was pulling on the back of his shirt and he groaned trying to swat them away, and then someone was touching up his _butt_.

"Oh, no you don't!" Cloud bolted upright sending the three people jumping. "Stay away from my wallet, you vultures!"

The vultures hopped away just out of his reach. They somehow managed to stay shadowed despite being in clear view of numerous street lamps.

"Hey, I.." he stopped short when he noticed the first person. "Hey, that's my boot! Give it back!"

But the one with his boot flew away quickly (actually awkwardly jumped on a trash can then up a ladder to the building roof). Cloud picked up a bottle and lobbed that sonuvabitch at the vulture scoring a direct hit to the forehead. The man squawked and dropped the boot.

"Get outta heres, ya vultures!" Cloud yelled at them as he waved his retrieved footwear around.

"Skree, skree!" the three men dissipated into the shadows of an alleyway. "Skreeee!"

Confusedly and disgustingly Cloud put his soiled boot back on.

"DON'T WORRY ABOUT THEM," a voice said from behind him. Cloud whipped around a few times, spinning and spinning and spinning and...

"WHOA, THERE, FRIEND," the voice said again as hands held him steady.

Cloud's head eventually stopped lolling around and he could focus on the two strangers.

The voice('s arms) holding him was a young man with rather large and impressive forearms. Cloud could feels his bones creaking under what was apparently a friendly gesture. He had the glowing eyes of a SOLDIER and released him just before his arms could shatter in a friendly-horrific manner. The second person was a kindly young woman clutching a book to her chest with impressive possessiveness. Cloud couldn't help but admire her tenaciousness in protecting a book and wish he too had that enthusiasm about protecting his boots.

"If you want my boots, you'll have to fight for them," he slurred. "I mean... fight me, not each other. You could both a boot have each."

"WE DON'T WANT YOUR BOOTS, FRIEND," the big man smiled warmly.

The woman said something but her voice was little more than a whisper on the winds.

"Huh?" Cloud bumbled.

"... to join... happy... group..."

"Huh?"

"SHE SAID 'WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN THE STUDY GROUP'?" the man remarked.

The woman said something else to her companion with a distressed look on her face and the man looked embarrassed. "OH, RIGHT, sorry. Indoor voice. Um, would you like to join the Study Group or Keepers of Honour?"

"The what-what and what-what-what?"

The young man pounded his solid chest firmly and proudly. "The Keepers of Honour! I AM GARIK, President of the club! All our members are dedicated to Lieutenant General Angeal Hewley and his path of the least bloodshed! There is no SOLDIER more honourable than Lieutenant Angeal!"

Cloud simply rubbed his aching ears.

"... study group... Genesis... Annie."

"THIS IS ANNIE," Garik said. "SHE IS PRESIDENT OF THE STUDY GROUP. PLEASE CONSIDER JOINING."

Cloud leaned in as far as he could trust his feet (fortunately they were rather large and so he had quite impeccable balance [unfortunately not while drunk]), already anticipating he would be unable to hear the small woman speak.

"... we are the Lieutenant General Genesis Rhapsodos fanclub... dedicated to... the study of the Loveless franchise..."

"WE HAVE NOTICED YOU—" Annie elbowed Garik, "—spending time with both the Lieutenant Generals and wondered if you were interested in learning more."

Cloud's vocabulary—limited though it may be—had deserted him and he found no words to reply with.

"Alright, fine, whatever," he eventually said. "Sign me up, who cares."

"YOU MAY ONLY JOIN ONE," Garik said.

Cloud growled. "Just... ugh. Keepers of Honey."

Annie looked sad.

"Er... the Sturdy Group."

Now Garik looked sad.

"You know what?" Cloud held up his hands in defeat. "Fuck you both!"

And with that he spun on his heel, performed a full 360 degree turn and stormed by the pair of idiots. He noticed those dirty boot thieves were watching him closely from the opposite building. Now out in the full moonlight their questionable apparel was plain to see: cheap imitation, black and red leather, and copious amounts of belts and zippers. They tittered and hopped about eachother as their eyes followed him.

"Skreee..."

Keeping his own eye on them Cloud barely got a few feet further down the street before he was stopped again.

"May I speak with you?" a cultured voice vied for his waning attention.

Cloud slowly inclined his head. "Do you have to? I'm... really drunk right now."

"Yes," the voice replied and Cloud turned a little too quickly to face the newcomer.

There where actually three of them; three smartly dressed women. The woman speaking to him was dark skinned with blonde hair and wore an expensive-looking grey and white pinstripe suit. Flanking her were two equally cultured women; one Wutanese and the other caucasian. And all three carried clipboards.

Cloud groaned in realisation. "No, I don't wanna join _Jenova's Witnesses_," he started.

The forewoman looked momentarily disgusted at this. "Please. We are _Silver Elite_. We would never associate ourselves with _them_. We are the true Sephiroth fans, not those swine who run around in black cloaks shouting about the world burning. You are Cloud Strife?"

"Uhh, yeah...?" Cloud was becoming unsteady again.

"My name is Anastasia," the speaking woman introduced herself. "This is Tomoko and Cassandra."

Cloud teetered forward a little.

"We at Silver Elite are elated to inform you that you have been granted permission to join our very select group."

Cloud teetered forward a little further.

"This is a very exclusive offer we are handing out to you; I hope you understand that not just anybody can join."

Cloud fell that final bit forward into warmth and nestled in for a quick nap.

Anastasia sucked in a patient breath. "Please remove yourself from my bosom."

"Oh, sorry!" Cloud snapped back and propped himself up with hands on his hips, cool as a cucumber.

Anastasia exchanged a look with her guards (or whatever the silent pair were meant to be) and continued. "Silver Elite is the most prestigious group and has been in existence for over two decades. Our membership is closed to all but those with the utmost respect and admiration for the Great Sephiroth."

"... so you're a fanclub?"

"Um. Yes," Anastasia grudgingly admitted.

"And... what?" Cloud stuttered. "You're saying the Silver Elite has been a thing for over twenty years? And Sephiroth is, er, twenty-five?"

"Twenty-three," the woman corrected tersely.

"Right... so what you're telling me is that this fanclub has been in existence since the General was _three years old_. That's what you're saying right now. This very instant. To me. A total stranger. That you just picked up off the street."

Anastasia at least had the good grace to look mildly uncomfortable. "Our founder, Chairwoman H—"

"You have been idolising a child. And you don't see anything creepy with that?"

"Technically I hadn't joined back then, so—"

"You were sharing private information about a toddler. Perhaps when he took his first steps, or what his first words were, or who was the first babysitter he shanked?"

"Ah, that was Henry," the woman supplied.

"Did you have pictures of him on your wall? Did you cover your pencil case? Did you trade pictures of a child in these back alleys? How did you finance these gatherings of yours? Were you profiting from the exploitation of a minor? _Did you enjoy it? _Make you feel like a big man? A big, strong man. A big, strong man with rock hard pecs and a firm arse and legs that go on for..." Cloud just stopped and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "What were we talking about?"

"I am beginning to think you are more drunk than you admit you are," Anastasia said as Cloud re-railed his train of thought.

"You make me _sick!_" he said.

"Look, do you want to join or not?" Anastasia huffed.

A pause.

"... yeah, okay." Cloud shrugged. "I mean, guy's an adult now, right?"

"Indeed."

Cloud fumbled with the pen he had been handed and scrawled his signature the best he could. "So, I'm a Jenova's Witness now? Whaddo I have to do?"

Anastasia slapped her forehead in a very undignified manner. "No! Have you not listened to anything i've said? You're _Silver Elite_ now."

"'cause I don't think I can afford a good suit..." Cloud continued.

"You don't have to do anything!" The Cassandra woman nudged her leader and passed over a letter. "Oh, I do beg pardon. When you next see the Great Sephiroth please pass this letter along. We would be very grateful."

Then Anastasia and her companions began giggling in a most suspicious way. Cloud narrowed his eyes and snatched the envelope. If he had his way he wouldn't be seeing Sephiroth again. Ever. So of course he was going to be seeing the man at some point in the very near future. Perhaps _right now!_

He spun around.

Nothing.

Hmm. Imaginary Sephiroth: 2. Cloud: nil.

"Ugh, whatever," Cloud muttered as the trio of women began to take their leave.

"Oh and," Anastasia flipped her short blonde hair over a shoulder, "beware of _Red Leather_. They're a pack of vultures."

"Mmmm." Cloud eyed the shadowy figures that had been perched on the rooftops through this entire débâcle. Just watching him. Following his every move, eagerly awaiting to pick at the scraps.

"Skree..."

Even his alcohol addled brain decided it best to not stick around in the open and that he should probably get back to the training facility lest Zack have to lecture him again and Thompson punch his head clean off his shoulders for being drunk on duty. Again. Though technically that first time hadn't been his fault, but what could he say. His dead friends made him do it?

But first he had something very important to take care of, and so he stumbled off in search of some relief.

These was a person of indeterminable gender wearing a black cloak and hunched over in the doorway to the all-night pharmacist. Cloud stopped before the person and stared. And stared. And stared some more. Eventually his presence was detected and the person who was possibly even more drunk than he addressed him.

"Spare some change, guy?"

No reply. Cloud stared harder.

"Just a couple gil," the drunk continued.

Staring.

"Anything'll help."

Stare.

"Guy?"

Cloud was up to here with this bullshit. Right up to here. And now he decided it would be more fun to be an angry drunk rather than a bemused drunk. So he stomped on the guy.

"Ahhh! Me nads!" the cloaked figure curled in on himself.

Cloud paid the poor wretch no further attention as he then entered the shop.

The genitally wounded man shouted and bawled after him. "May Jenova's wrath be upon you! When our planet is at its end may you receive no mercy from our Silver God! May your body be crushed into a thousand tiny pancakes and served to lactose intolerant orphans! A pox on thee! How dare you stomp on my balls!"

Red Leather swarmed upon the vulnerable Jenova's Witness.

Meanwhile, Cloud located a shopkeeper and thoroughly harassed her.

"Pepto-bismol. Now," Cloud stared at the woman.

The shopkeeper looked a mite nervous. "Sir?"

"Advil." Just stared.

"Uh... that way?" She pointed to an aisle and Cloud left without another word.

Cloud just smashed his hands into the rows of boxes knocking most to the floor and grabbed whatever. Then took them to the till and placed them on the conveyor belt. He watched the box ever-so-slowly move towards the bored looking clerk. The guy was in his fifties, chewing gum and looked like tonight would be the night when he would finally top himself. Cloud stared at him.

The clerk was waiting to be paid and despite the awkward staring, droned, "sir, we're closing soon."

A blatant lie, if only to stop the staring.

Cloud reached into his wallet but something seemed different. "Oh, that fucker! Walker robbed me!"

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X- **

Sephiroth disappeared off the security camera footage, but the security guard didn't notice because ShinRa was terrible and the man was badly trained, and because it was almost 3am in the morning, and because ShinRa wages paid diddly-squat forcing already over-worked employees to take extra shifts. And because it was a blind spot Sephiroth exclusively knew about.

At least he thought he were the only one who knew about it until a scrawny blonde cadet squeezed through the narrow crack in the guard wall opposite where he was currently knelt down in the dirt. Silently he rose to his feet, dropping the object he had been holding and watched the kid curiously.

"Gah!" the boy shrieked as he bumped into the last person he wanted to see—or expected to.

"Cadet," Sephiroth said in that non-too stern voice that he knew had the younger ones quaking in their little booties. "It is way passed curfew, what are you doing out?"

"What're _you_ doing out?" he cadet wobbled on his feet.

Sephiroth was quite taken aback when the boy countered him like that. Then again, the cadet was clearly drunk, and if his experiences with Genesis meant anything it was that drunk people did some weird stuff. He looked down at his dropped gardening implements, "ah, good question. One that I will not be answering."

The boy wobbled.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, just looking at the kid. So this drunk blonde was the one Zack had nominated for SOLDIER training. So far he had not put forward a good impression. And standing in Sephiroth's patch was not helping his case any.

"Oh!"

He looked up as the boy shouted. The boy (Claude Strike, was it?) looked dazed and off-colour. _Oh, you had better not vomit,_ he silently warned, being much better at communicating with his eyes than his words.

But instead of ruining Sephiroth's morning by presenting the General with all his past meals from yesterday, Strike handed him something. Sephiroth took it automatically, just wanting the boy to _go away_, and wondering why he hadn't just clouted the cadet upside the head similar to how Angeal did to him when he unknowingly committed some social faux pas.

Probably because the kid was friends with Zack, and Zack was a good friend who was friends with Angeal, who was a best friend and Planet, he was tired of this friendship business already.

"Just get out of here," he snapped and the kid practically stumbled over himself running away.

Without paying it the slightest attention, Sephiroth stuffed the given item in his pocket and settled back down in his secret-now-not-so-secret dirt patch. Where the heck had he dropped his clippers now? He looked over his shoulder to see the Strike kid disappear behind the chain link fence.

Weirdo.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X- **

**a/n:** I'm beginning to think I should have titled this fic 'Dead Prefix' considering just how many activities there are in the lifestream. Truly badminton is the king of sports. Drop off a **review** on your way out or no dead-smoothies for you!


	5. Anatomically Correct

**Author:** Zhampy  
**Rating:** T / PG-15  
**Genre:** Humour/Romance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own a single thing in the FFVII Compilation. See if you can spot all the references I steal throughout this fic!  
**Summery:** Some weeks later the Silver Elite send Cloud a surprisingly well-made action figure of Sephiroth. Actually, the other fanclubs have mass-produced figures of Genesis and Angeal also. In Sephiroth's office Genesis and Angeal are inspecting their respctive figurines when Cloud is caught redhanded with a Sephiroth one.  
**Contains:** Main pairing is **Cloud/Sephiroth** with a **Zack/Aerith** side-dish and some other minor pairings. Some OOCness for humourous purposes, AR, couple of OCs, and occasional foul language.

**Modus Operandi  
**_Episode Five – Anatomically Correct_

"Ughhh..."

Cloud rolled out of bed and hit the floor. If he'd been fully conscious he'd be thankful that the bottom bunk had been forced on him as his roommate preferred heights. Well, they do say idiots like high places. And speaking of his idiot roommate, Granville had just burst into the room causing Cloud to recoil with pain, and recoil with further pain as his skull hit the unforgiving floor.

"Package for yah!" the blonde announced happily.

He threw the narrow box at Cloud's head oblivious as it bounced off his forehead inciting more pain and igniting a new flame of hatred. Cloud was a very petty individual. Also very hungover, and his too-chirpy-in-the-morning companion really got his goat up... or some such similar metaphor. What I'm saying is that Granville annoyed the heck out of Cloud.

Violence among recruits was forbidden, however. But Cloud wasn't driving his fists over and over into Granville's gut right now because of the rules—no—it was because as Zack's protégé that could damage his friend's career, and if word along the grapevine was true, then Zack was close to First Class promotion.

Grumpily shifting back onto his bed, Cloud began opening the package carefully. It looked too small to be from his mother sneaking him in some nausea medicine, clean underwear and illegal bratwurst. Good lord, if the other cadets discovered he had actual honest to Gaia _food_ in his room, as opposed to that slop the mess labelled as edible, he would be the most popular boy in the barracks—he'd never get any peace!

Oh, wait, no. He'd get the tar beaten out of him and his sausages stolen. Nevermind.

"This is... this is..." Cloud flipped the box to get a better look.

"Oh, hey!" Granville sprung up behind him like a Jack-in-a-box (_get off my bed!_). Cloud's hands flew up to at clutch his pounding head. The box dropped to the floor between his legs.

"Granville, get out!" he shouted, then immediately regretted it when his own head protested the loud noise.

But his roommate seemed undeterred. "So, yah joined a fanclub, huh? Who'd yah join, huh, huh? Oh!"

As the plain cardboard box had fallen it had revealed its contents to the pair of cadets. It was an object made with lots of love and care by a professional manufacturer. Only the highest quality plastics had been used and all the finer details had been perfectly shaped from the folds of the bare-chested trench coat right down to certain individual strands of long hair. It was maybe 20cm in height with adjustable appendages, and hell, even the fingers could be altered to grasp the intricately painted grip of a long plastic sword. Whoever had designed the original had perfectly captured the facial structure and expression, not to mention that certain poise of body language, and although it were ridiculous to think it; the figurine's eyes seemed to glow in their intensity.

Basically it was a figurine of Sephiroth. _Silver Elite_ was written on the optional stand that came packaged free.

"You joined Silver Elite, Cloud?" Granville sounded dazed. "Wow! No cadet's ever been able tah join the Silver Elite. They're too, um, elite fer us."

Nothing registered in his mind as he stared at the figurine, barely even seeing it. Why? Why, Gaia, why? Why do you hate me? I thought we were cool! Now you're sending me the most awkward gifts on the planet. Mocking little sadist, who knew the Planet could be so cruel. A small place card had fallen from the box along with the figurine which Cloud picked up. Stupefied, he read it;

_Cloud Strife,_

_Congratulations on joining Silver Elite. I am writing this letter personally to you and so I trust you understand what an honour it is to be a member of such an exclusive group. Included is our latest limited addition figurine for all your individual needs._

_On a personal note, I must add what a joy it is to welcome someone who has such connections into our fold. Perhaps with your assistance we shall all become much closer to the object of our affections._

_We await your contributions to the club with much anticipation._

_Yours, Anastasia._

_President of Silver Elite._

What the heck!? He really had joined a fanclub? He didn't remember doing that! And clearly they'd only let him join because he were close to Zack who was close to Angeal who was close to Sephiroth.

"Oh, Gaia, I need to stop getting smashed," he held his head in despair.

Granville took the card from his limp fingers. "You gave a letter to the General? You met Sephiroth in person!?"

"What!?" Cloud snatched the card back, his eyes frantically scanning for more information. There was no way he had met Sephiroth by his lonesome. No freaking way. But sure enough, there in tiny print at the bottom of the card, was the proof.

_PS. Thank you for delivering our letter to General Sephiroth himself. Enclosed is a copy for your own personal entrainment._

"O-oh, Gaia. I gave this to...?"

It was essentially fanfiction. Well, not essentially. It was literally fanfiction. Real person fanfiction. Real person _slash_ fiction. Starring Sephiroth and his two Lieutenant Generals.

"This is the gayest thing I've ever read. Didn't know yah were a flamin' homo. I'm not really surprised," Granville said from over his shoulder. "Ooof!"

Cloud belted his elbow into his roommate's lungs uncaring to the blonde's desperate gasps for life sustaining air. This was nothing more than absurdity. Damn you, Anastasia! He ignored Granville as the cadet breathed to put in a call for his mother and quickly slipped on his sandals to make a swift exit. No way was he keeping this thing around. No fucking way. He had to get rid of it. But once he was out in the hall—

"Spikey!" That was Zack coming down the hallway. Cloud practically jumped out of his uniform, desperately looking left and right for a place to dump the figurine. He found no such place in an empty hall. "You're off duty right now, right? We should hang! Angeal is in Seph's office. Let's go!"

Oh, god!

Before Zack could get close enough to notice, Cloud quickly stuffed the figurine down the back of his trousers. He kept his back facing away at all times as he were spun around and led in the opposite direction, and if anyone else noticed the strange, lumpy shape slowly falling down his trouser leg they didn't comment on it.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Cloud stood awkwardly in the doorway as Zack pushed by and directed his approach towards his mentor. Not quite sure what to do as his friend had comfortably flopped all over a now ruffled Angeal, Cloud settled for admiring the office. After all, he couldn't very well just walk over and plop himself down in the seat opposite Sephiroth like they were best buddies and hey, I got us takeaway, you like Cajun chocobo, right?

It was a room devoid of personal touches. Not that Cloud knew exactly what Sephiroth's personal tastes were like. It wasn't like he were expecting the walls to be decorated with the heads of fallen foes, or a stuffed Wutaian Commander proudly displayed on a wooden plaque that sang _Rule ShinRa, ShinRa Rules the Waves_ when prompted. Nothing like that at all.

It was a room filled with expensive oak and fancy black marble trim. There was a large marble column off-centre to the left (_load-bearing wall,_ Cloud mused. _Must've knocked two offices into one_), with a painting of some Wutaian (not burning to the ground) landscape hung on it. At the back of the room Masamune was placed horizontally on two little pegs just enough distance from Sephiroth's head that he could spin around in his chair and grab it to disembowel some unfortunate sap. And a dying plant in the corner.

"You need to water that," Angeal advised Sephiroth.

Sephiroth looked at the browning plant quickly. "Maybe you should take it back. I don't think i'm qualified to care for it."

"It's a plant," Angeal said flatly and with as much dignity as he could muster with Zack pretending to be his scarf. "Just water it."

"How often does it need water?"

"Every other day should be fine."

"You can't give gifts back," Zack mentioned as he removed himself from his mentor, now apparently satisfied the man was sufficiently friendshiped up. "That's rude."

Sephiroth only sighed as he eyed the plant almost nervously. Did he think it would become sentient and run away with his paperwork (that Cloud had noticed the man was guarding quite possessively)?

"It's not going to come alive and make off with your paperwork," Zack unknowingly spoke Cloud's thoughts aloud.

"It had better not," Sephiroth grumbled as he idly shuffled some sheets. "Besides, it's already alive."

"Not for much longer," Cloud muttered before he could stop himself.

Zack laughed. "Cloud knows how it's at! You could look after a plant, couldn't'cha, Spikey?"

"I have a pet cactus called Pete."

No one said anything. And Cloud felt like punching himself. Everyone was staring at him. Then after a few humiliating moments the silence was broken.

"I suppose I could pay it a little more attention," Sephiroth conceded.

Then before anyone else could speak the Lieutenant General Genesis rushed the office. In his excitement he knocked Cloud on his arse with little effort or care, too preoccupied with waving an armful of boxes around. He charged the desk and immediately occupied the seat Cloud had been eyeing.

"The new MLP dolls are in! Oh, good, Zack, you're here too," Genesis breathed heavily. He passed a box to Zack, Angeal and Sephiroth as well. "You have no idea what I had to go through to get these. It was crazy. Kids everywhere! Madness! Okay, okay, calm down, I know you're all excited but hold onto your chocobos!"

All waited patiently for the red-headed man to continue. In an attempt to catch his breath Genesis flopped over the desk messing up all the neatly organised papers. Cloud's mind immediately jumped to images of Sephiroth relieving the Lieutenant of his head, but to Cloud's surprise Sephiroth seemed too preoccupied with his box. Then again, so did Zack and Angeal. Suddenly he felt rather left out.

"Okay," Genesis gasped. "I went out to the toystore midnight opening like I said I was going to, right? So when I get there, to be first in line of course, who's already there? Turks! _Turks!_ Tseng and a few of his worthless plebs. So I told them to get lost and things got a little heated—their fault—and then the clerk came out threatening to call the police if another section of their building caught fire—Tseng's fault—can you believe that? So I get booted out and that smarmy bastard got first picks."

Although he would probably regret it, Angeal had to ask; "so how did you get in?"

"Oh, huh?" Genesis looked up distractedly from his MLP box. "Oh, I kidnapped a kid and pretended I were her dad."

He didn't miss the appalled expressions being thrown his way.

"What? _What?_ I brought her back to her parents. Who cares! Just open your boxes; see what you got. I didn't have time to check before the kid's dad..."

"I do love MLP," Angeal admitted after a short pause.

Zack looks to you—yes, you—the fourth wall. "I am an eighteen-year-old male and am not ashamed to admit that I love MLP. I am a special snowflake."

Maybe he didn't get up off the floor because he were too confused—or surprised—with the situation, but either way, Cloud remained seated on his backside watching with fascination as each man opened their box enthusiastically. Each box quickly revealed its mystery MLP doll: each one was a Vice President Rufus figurine. And now that he could get a clear look at the packaging Cloud could read the name in full; _My Little Prez_. Collect 'em all!

Now _that_ is some fine propaganda.

"Did you hear about the figurine set with brushable hair? They're very popular with older males for some reason," Angeal was saying without the slightest hint of irony. "I heard there was a big hullabaloo over the Prez's hair not being the right shade of blonde."

Things couldn't possibly get any weirder.

"What shooty mark do yours have?" Genesis asked.

And then things got weirder.

As if it were as normal as taking a walk in the park, or as normal as puking after a visit to Hojo the four SOLDIERs pulled down the Rufus doll's white trousers and paid all their attention to its plastic butt.

"Mine's a rifle," Zack announced.

"A shotgun," Sephiroth said.

"I got Dark Nation," Angeal informed them.

"Aww! You got the special addition, no fair!" Genesis whined. "After all the trouble I went to. Well, whatever. Cloud!"

Cloud started and snapped off a salute automatically.

"At ease, kid," Genesis waved his hand lazily and leant back in his chair. "You're with Zack a lot. Want me to get you a My Little Prez next time too?"

What was with this unfathomable kindness? Just how polar was this man!?

Genesis continued, "because 'Geal and Seph won't admit they like it, and Zack can't get out much."

No, he didn't want a stupid Rufus doll. "I don't... know what..."

"You don't know what My Little Prez is!?" Genesis cut him off impeccably. "What rock have you been living under?"

When he looked away he noticed that Zack looked equally shocked (and maybe a little disappointed?) with his ignorance. "I talk to you about My Little Prez all the time! You've _seen_ my collection," Zack said.

"Right..."

But no more was said about it. Cloud knew that as soon as he were off duty again he would be stolen away to Zack's apartment and shown all these weird Rufus dolls. Had this always been a thing?

"Oh, and also, the new fanclub figurines have arrived," Angeal calmly said as he reached beneath his chair.

There was a pause before Genesis reacted.

"Why didn't you say!? Wasting my time with this crap!" he exclaimed, tossing his My Little Prez doll away and snatching one of the boxes Angeal had produced.

The excitable Lieutenant tore into the box like a ravenous lion on a fresh kill. Cloud's eyes desperately flickered down to the figurine of his own fallen at his feet. But his arms were made of lead and without mako enhancements he found he couldn't lift them. Thankfully Genesis commanded all attention when he where in a room so no one paid the worthless cadet on the floor any heed. The carpet felt nice.

If boxes could radiate light and omit a choir song that's what would have happened as Genesis removed his figurine. It was exceptionally well made—as professional as the Sephiroth figure, and judging by his expression, Genesis himself was more than pleased with it. He held it this way and that, admired its delicately moulded face and the precision folds of the plastic coat, how Rapier had been sculptured and how the manufacturer had perfectly captured his playboy feathered hairstyle. _Red Leather_ was etched into the optional stand. Angeal also looked equally pleased with his own figurine—the attention to detail was amazing as he were posed highlighting his fists rather than the Buster Sword. _Keepers of Honour_ was etched into its stand.

"Did you get a figurine too, Seph?" Zack asked innocently.

"Hmph."

It was at this moment that Zack suddenly remembered again that his protégée had come to the office with him. "Cloud! Come sit here with me." He settled himself on the bay window that had been converted into a makeshift three-person seat.

This invitation, of course, diverted all attention in his direction. No matter how hard someone tried not to see, or no matter how awful their cataracts may have been, it would have been impossible to not see the Sephiroth figurine laying facedown at his feet.

_Please be suddenly blind_, Cloud futilely begged someone—anyone.

But Someone and Anyone where obviously on their coffee break discussing the game last weekend or something and as such, ignored his request. The Zack and Aerith that had taken up residence in his head were also notably quiet.

"Oh, great!" Genesis exclaimed as he came over and helped Cloud become vertical again. "Now we've got the whole set."

Even if he'd wanted to, Cloud didn't protest when his figurine was snatched away. Supposed it was kind of pointless trying to dispose of it now. Quietly he shuffled over to sit next to Zack in the seat that had clearly not been Sephiroth's decision. The other seats also looked like they had been brought in from a different office too. He discreetly watched the General for any signs of his imminent murder.

Sephiroth did not look pleased. His jaw was set in a disapproving glare entirely directed at the figurine. Not that this saved Cloud from throwback radiation however, causing him to sink in his seat and appear as small as possible. It looked as if the General were trying his utmost best to set the thing on fire simply by glaring at it, and Cloud was actually surprised that the figurine wasn't a plastic, molten puddle by now.

"Hey, look," Genesis grinned. He was looking down the front of his dolls trousers. "I'm anatomically correct."

"Rufus isn't anatomically correct," Sephiroth observed with all the innocence that only a sheltered individual could achieve.

"Why would MLP be anatomically correct? These are children's toys!"

"Who are these for then?" Sephiroth eyed the fanclub figurine of his likeness.

Everyone either ignored the question or couldn't answer. Instead, Genesis took his doll and the Sephiroth doll and opened their arms, then he placed them together in an embrace on the desk.

"There look, Genesis and Sephiroth are best friends," he teasingly grinned.

"Stop that."

But Genesis and his companions only laughed at the General's expense, and despite himself, Cloud had begun vibrating with silent mirth as well.

"Even getting in Seph's doll's personal space is freaking him out!" the Crimson Lieutenant laughed harder.

In one swift movement, Sephiroth deftly pulled the head clean off the Genesis doll.

"Noooo!" Genesis wailed with shock as he were beheaded. He grabbed his headless doll and began kissing it all over, muttering reassuring nothings to it. "It's okay, baby, it's okay. Breathe through the pain..."

Possibly to further prove his point that he wouldn't deal with this nonsense Sephiroth popped the plastic head in his mouth and began chewing. Genesis' sullen eyes rose from his decapitated figurine and slowly reignited with mischief as he watched his doll be abused in such a way.

"You know," he began in a low, suggestive tone, "it's like we're practically kissing right now."

Sephiroth instantly spat the head out clear across the office and into the bin.

"D'agh!" Genesis almost rose from his seat to chase after his baby, but managed to restrain himself. "Well, lucky for you I have another." He re-headed his doll with a spare and resumed doting over it.

_So Lieutenant Genesis carries around spare heads of himself_, Cloud observed.

"These are well made. Much better than the previous versions," Angeal tried to inject some normalcy into the situation despite inspecting a tiny version of himself all the while. "More realistic."

"You say that..." Zack muttered sadly, now holding out a figurine of his own for all to see. "But mine's a Troll Doll."

It was a Troll Doll. What more is there to say? The Zack Fanclub (just as imaginative as they man they loved) had produced a Zack Troll Doll. It had a bare chest and wore a plain pair of black Second Class shorts. It also had the signature hair in black. And a damned ugly face.

"Very realistic!" Cloud grinned. "I like it."

Zack placed the cheap doll next to the professionally produced Genesis, Angeal and Sephiroth figures. It did... not look good.

"... it's the thought that counts?" Angeal remarked.

Zack sighed.

Sephiroth cleared his throat.

Hint, hint.

Thankfully Angeal was neither oblivious (Zack) nor a jerk (Genesis) and expertly interpreted the Generals curt movements of shuffling his files as a warning. Cloud calculated that they had less than a minute to get lost before something or someone was breaking. He shot to his feet obviously too quickly as Angeal gathered up his fanclub figurine and suggested they should get moving—lots of work yet to be done.

As they made to leave, Sephiroth's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. "You forgot your..."

Cloud slowly turned his head knowing full well and not wanting to see. The General was dourly indicating the Sephiroth figurine with his pen.

"Um, um." Really, what could actually be said by this point. "You can keep it?"

Oh, good job, Cloud. Are you suggesting that Sephiroth is as narcissistic as Genesis to keep an effigy of himself around? The General was giving him the distinct look of 'why the hell would I want this crap'? But probably in a more sophisticated manner. Maybe more of a; 'and you think I require this, why?', or along the lines of; 'this is ridiculous. Take your wank material with you'. And evidently the man also had trouble accepting gifts if the dying plant in the corner was any indication.

It was Genesis who came to his rescue again. "Good idea, Cannon Fodder. Seph can keep them all. Goddess knows this place needs some cheering up."

_What did he just call me?_ Cloud scowled.

"I don't want them," Sephiroth said flatly.

But the Lieutenant wasn't listening. Seemed he just enjoyed getting under his friend's skin. He took the figurines from their owners and placed them on an empty shelf just behind the door. Posing them to look like they where all frolicking in a field of flowers together while being watched by a lonely Troll-Zack, Genesis herded the group out the door.

"If you can tear yourself away from your work for a minute you can throw them away," Genesis told his superior, and with a haughty flick of his foot he left. "Toodles!"

Well. That had certainly been informative. And yep. Sure enough, Zack was now in the process of steering Cloud to his apartment to show off his My Little Prez collection. As if he wanted to see more of these dumb dolls after this whole episode. By this point Sephiroth must have been convinced Cloud was an imbecile, _and_ a crazed fanboy at that. First the letter and now the figurine. He just wanted to get back to his bed and have Granville smother him.

"**What _was_ that?" Head-Aerith asked.**

"**That's Troll-Zack," Head-Zack answered proudly. "What? Don't gimmie that look. It's great! I don't see _you_ with any fan figurines."**

**Aerith sighed. "And thank the Planet for that."**

Later that day Genesis would be walking by the base of ShinRa Tower on the way back to his own barracks. As he passed by a small object would suddenly crash right before his feet. He would bend down to inspect the object and be horrified to notice it was his Genesis action figure smashed into tiny pieces. He would look up at the Tower and see a familiar window closing.

"Philistine!" he would scream to the sky.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X- **

**a/n:** I wrote this before the majority of chapter four and thoroughly enjoyed it. Don't forget to **review** and tell me how much you thoroughly enjoyed it too!

(oh god i'm so weird)


	6. Science-Off!

**Author:** Zhampy  
**Rating:** T / PG-15  
**Genre:** Humour/Romance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own a single thing in the FFVII Compilation. See if you can spot all the references I steal throughout this fic!  
**Summery:** Professor Hojo and Professor Hollander must release their pent-up aggrevations out on eachother. It's a Science Off! This can only lead to bad things for Sephiroth, Genesis and Angeal, and the rest of SOLDIER.  
**Contains:** Main pairing is **Cloud/Sephiroth** with a **Zack/Aerith** side-dish and some other minor pairings. Some OOCness for humourous purposes, AR, couple of OCs, and occasional foul language.

**a/n:** I hope long chapters don't bother you readers. Sometimes they just get away from me. I'll try to knock it off in future :(

**Modus Operandi  
**_Episode Six – Science Off!_

Despite what the common person may have thought, it wasn't easy being the General of SOLDIER. Being the closest thing to a walking god and ShinRa's most powerful weapon. Sephiroth, the Silver General; the Demon of Wutai. No one understood the sacrifices he had to make to appear untouchable—to appear more than human.

For example, the most natural of bodily functions he were forbid to show: sneezing or burping. At least not in public anyway. At least not without a trip to the labs and Hojo throwing barbed questions layered with traps sprinkled with insinuations for him to trip over and scrape a knee. Not that he were being paranoid or anything.

Then his stomach rumbled and he hunched down instinctively with humiliation, his eyes peering left and right checking for any invisible interlopers into his private space. Good, no one had witnessed that mild show of weakness.

Speaking of...

He really fancied a ginger snap right about now.

No one dared to touch his things without strict permission, and even then people looked a little light-headed while doing so. So his bottommost desk drawer was safe to keep a surprise or two in. Today he had sneaked in a special offer Tonberry brand bag of ginger snaps all shaped like little lanterns and knives.

Then his office door burst open without the slightest hint of a warning. Genesis barged in just as he sat, open-mouthed and about to stuff the largest handful of ginger snaps, ever, into his gaping maw.

Genesis blinked for a second.

Sephiroth blinked back.

"..."

Still with an obscene handful of gingery treats in hand.

Wait, he shouldn't think that with a redhead in the room.

"..."

"Um," Genesis started slowly, "Hojo and Hollander are fighting in the mess hall. You might want to come and see..."

"Off caws," Sephiroth said, barely moving his open mouth and thus barely understandable.

Genesis kept his wide-eyed expression pinned on the General the whole time he slowly backed out of the room.

Goddamn it.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Genesis hadn't been kidding when he'd said the two scientists had been fighting. When Sephiroth had finally put in an appearance in the mess hall all hell had already broken loose.

Hojo was stood barely restraining his two-headed dog monster (that is to say; it had a head and a butt-head) as it snarled and frothed at both mouths. Because no one dared touch him under threat of mako poisoning, the SOLDIERs present had occupied themselves with holding back a volatile Hollander instead. What the bearded scientist had hoped to do to Hojo and his butt-headed monster Sephiroth did not know, nor particularly care to.

"He took my ball," Hojo whined as Sephiroth dared be the only person to approach him. "Get me my ball back!"

Sephiroth's brain suffered a fatal shut down momentarily before he could speak again. "You're upset Professor Hollander took your ball?"

"It's a very important ball," Hojo explained sharply. "The very scientific world could rest on this ball's spherical shoulders. But more importantly, it's _mine!_"

"You kicked it into _my_ office! It's mine now and i'm keeping it!" Hollander shouted in retaliation.

"That's not fair!" Hojo complained in turn.

Hollander threw off one of his captors as he waved an arm about fanatically. "Yes, and i'm going to take it out back and have it popped!"

Hojo's eyes widened in fury. "Sabotage!" he shrieked. Then he released the grip to his ethical-punch-to-God leaving it to scatter the gathered SOLDIERs in terror with both its heads snapping at crotch-height. "Go for the jugular, Precious!" Hojo encouraged his slavering pet.

"Alright, we'll have none of that." Sephiroth stunned God's Abomination (that's the dog, not Hojo—though wouldn't that be great too?) with the flat of Masamune. Hojo paid his unconscious dog-monster no heed.

"And you call yourself a vegetarian?" he instead sneered at his fellow professor.

"It's not alive," Hollander snapped back, alluding to the ball.

"How would you know, you're an abortion of a scientist!"

This clearly got up the bearded professor's nose as he rolled up his sleeves and shook his fist at the gremlin in a lab coat. "Oh, hold me back, hold me back! I don't know what I might do!"

No one held him back but Hollander struggled against himself anyway.

"I will get my ball back," Hojo declared, the underlying threat not going unnoticed. "You'll see. And then you'll regret it."

That did not bode well. Perhaps a third party could resolve this. That third party was not Angeal, but damnit, the Ebony Lieutenant was going to try anyway.

"Perhaps there is another way to resolve this," he tried grabbing for that increasingly attractive middle ground. "A non-lethal, non-destructive way?"

"There is only one way to settle this," Hojo hissed dangerously.

But the other professor wasn't backing down. "A science-off! Winner takes all!"

The men gathered released a collective groan. Oh, no, not this again. As if things hadn't just returned to normal following the last science-off (getting that purple tint off the walls had been torturous). Hojo and Hollander both stood already competing for the title of "Best Glarer"—a title of which Hojo was the defending champion, mainly due to his gremlin-like appearance and because Hollander's vegetarian face couldn't contort properly.

"Sephiroth, come!" Hojo ordered as he spun sharply to leave the room with the General following at a short distance.

Hollander huffed and beckoned with his hand; "boys." He led Angeal and Genesis (who had been standing in the back, slack-jawed) away.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Lab assistants scattered as Professor Hojo stormed into the room, his slightly hunched figure commanding and authoritative. By contrast, the ridiculously tall Sephiroth, who usually exuded authority, looked downtrodden and vaguely annoyed. The assistants performed their best impression of lab mice and gathered in one corner of the room squeaking nervously.

It wasn't check-up time! It shouldn't be check-up time! No one had told them it was check-up time! They needed to prepare! The walls hadn't been reinforced since the last time, Henry was still in the medical bay minus two unimportant fingers and an entire kidney, and the frog was still suffering post-traumatic stress disorder! There just _wasn't_ time.

Thankfully the professor and his prized experiment completely ignored anyone else in the room. Not that this stopped the assistants from continuing to cower in the corner.

"You must stop cavorting with those failures," Hojo muttered contemptuously as he reorganised tubes and beakers and other scientific stuff about the workplace. "Their mediocrity is contagious."

Sephiroth was a little perplexed about how he could avoid spending time with his immediate subordinates, but shrugged anyway. Whatever. Hojo was no stranger to lip service. "Yes, professor."

"But before we begin..." Hojo snapped a string of orders at one of the reluctant assistants, drawing him out from the huddled mass of fear in the corner. "Bring Precious here!"

The now conscious but still clearly hurting two-headed dog was lead obediently into the lab. Hojo shooed Sephiroth out of the way and indicated that the large questionably canine monster should be lifted onto the table, which Sephiroth reluctantly obliged with. He was pretty sure the "dog" deliberately kicked him in the throat, but perhaps that was attributing more intelligence to the thing and he was not willing to do that. Either way, Hojo shoved him aside and threw his arms around the head that wasn't doubling as the rear.

"Aww, my poor Pwecious. Was that big meanie Sephiroth nasty to you? Did he hurt you, my poor little baby? You're a good doggy, Pwecious. How many SOLDIER crotches did you tear out today? Whose my most special little guy? You are! You are! I wuv you, Daddy is so proud of you, boy."

With a silent grunt, Sephiroth had to turn his head away. Listening to people baby-talk was the worst thing ever. Perhaps even worse than listening to Genesis spewing Loveless quotes because he were too unoriginal to create his own poetry. No, maybe not that bad. Nothing could be as excruciating and yet as boring as listening to Genesis fawn over his limited edition, extremely rare misprint—haha look, there's a misspelling on the cover see? It clearly says "Colin" instead of "Colm", _see?!_—signed edition of Loveless for the umpteenth time that morning. Then again, if Genesis _did_ create his own poetry its questionable quality would drive him to reduce the Crimson Lieutenant into a lumpy red pulp. Perhaps it was for the best that the man wasn't the most creative person on the planet. Wait, his mind was wandering again. If that happened too much it'd have to be reported. He unwillingly tuned himself back into Insanity FM.

"Why have you named that thing but not any of your other specimens?" Sephiroth asked, if only to put a halt to all the goo-goo and gaa-gaa-ing.

"You're talking about the dog I love, don't call him 'that thing'. And besides, I only name the things that I like."

This made Sephiroth feel mighty sick.

"Your mother named you," Hojo quickly informed him.

He didn't feel ill anymore.

"But we have a more pressing matter to see to. If, for some absurd reason, I were to lose this science-off my work will be reassigned to the cubbyhole down the hall that fat hack bumbles around in."

_And if there's one thing that ShinRa desperately needs right now it's a printing press that works in Zero G __**and**__ underwater_, Sephiroth thought.

"Release the Mating Tube!" Hojo ordered of his assistants.

And honestly, by this point, Sephiroth really shouldn't be surprised by anything that happened in the labs. And he wasn't. A large glass tube lowered from the ceiling and secured itself to the floor, which opened up, raising a strange monster that only the Professor would be interested with. This assumption proved correct as Sephiroth's mind was already wandering to the whiteboard that challenged him to decipher its exotic hieroglyphs. Of course, Hojo proved himself to be the distracting irritant that he was when he spoke up, a slight quiver in his voice.

"Ah, but will it breed?"

A writhing squid-like monster as large as two Zacks and maybe a quarter of Genesis (this is called the SOLDIER scale of measurement) with antlers and a tail, pulsing for the kind of wet oxygen you only get in water. And the resident laboratory frog.

Sephiroth observed the two specimens. "I... don't think you quite understand genetics, professor."

Hojo reacted instantly, backhanding Sephiroth, but it had little more effect than an incredibly ugly mosquito hitting a very handsome diamond-encrusted section of the Junon cannon protected with an electric fence and barbed wire that also happened to be patrolled by guard dogs. "Don't you talk to me about genetics!"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Sephiroth instead directed his dwindling attention to the two specimens. And he had to hand it to them; the poor things really were trying their darnedest to mate. The frog was slipping and sliding all over the weird horned-squid monster, but no matter how desperate for it the frog was, it simply couldn't couldn't find a solid grip. Because frogs have no opposable thumbs, you see. And because the other thing was in the process of violently dying.

"I chose a frog, of course, because they're very horny creatures," said with a slight hint of perversion.

"I see..." Sephiroth recoiled with disgust.

"Ehehehehehehe!" Hojo then began cackling.

Sephiroth simply watched him.

"Ehehahahahahaha!"

Sephiroth remained thoroughly unentertained.

"Fufufufufufufufufu!"

Sephiroth checked his non-existent watch.

"Heeheeheeheeheehee!"

A lab assistant brought Sephiroth a cup of tea.

"Ahahahahahahaha!"

Sephiroth completed some outstanding paperwork.

"Kekekekekekekekeke!"

Sephiroth finished his tea.

"... gasp... gasp... gasp... gasp..."

Sephiroth began twiddling his thumbs.

"JUST FUCK ALREADY!" Hojo screamed.

"Good lord," Sephiroth rolled his eyes in a highly immature manner. He will flog himself later for this lapse in discipline.

Hojo sumushed his reddened face up against the glass tube. He never so much as flinched when a rogue tentacle crashed against the glass with a very different sort of passion than what Hojo had intended (in passionate death throes; it was quite the magnificent beast). The professor and his specimen that he currently _wasn't_ trying to mate with a frog watched as this experiment died a very violent death, leaking a yellow liquid as it abruptly came to an end.

"Planet, I hope that's puss," Sephiroth reassured himself quietly.

The tube was opened and the two-Zacks-and-a-quater-Genesis sized squid monster was removed quickly. Hojo picked up the flattened frog with a distinct expression of disdain and deposited it into the nearest waste disposal bin when an assistant approached. The young man was braver than any SOLDIER Sephiroth had ever witnessed to be speaking with the professor so soon after such a fantastic failure, or he was just really dumb. Yeah. It was most likely the latter. Either way: something to go down in the ol' diary!

"Shall I dispose of the carcass, doctor?" the lab assistant asked.

"No. No, take it in the back and freeze it. Oh, and ask the kitchen staff if they would be open to some more... _exotic_ ingredients," Hojo licked his lips.

"And the frog?" the assistant asked again.

"Gross! What civilised person eats frogs?!"

But unfortunately this meant he had yet to produce something for the science-off.

"It can't be that difficult," Sephiroth scoffed. He grabbed two random test tubes, one filled with pink sludge and one filled with blue.

"No! Don't mix those chemicals!" Hojo shrieked, but it was too late.

_**KABOOM!**_

The lab was instantly filled with a dark purple smog and choked with coughing. No, sorry. The lab was instantly filled with coughing and choked with a dark purple smog... no, actually maybe that did sound better the first way. Well anyway, Hojo was angry.

"You utter child," the good doctor growled. He couldn't see Sephiroth but knew the man could hear him.

"My apologies, professor," his experiment coughed.

The air filter kicked in at this moment and soon the smoke had been sucked into the vents and released into Reeve's office instead. Hojo barked and shouted at his assistants to begin the clean-up then rounded on his most prized specimen. Sephiroth had the most suggestive purple explosion all over his face. That suggestion being that he'd stupidly mixed some over excited chemicals that had blown up in his face.

Hojo jabbed the silver-haired man with a spindly finger.

"You."

"Me."

"Sephiroth."

"Yes?"

"_You_ will be my presentation."

"Oh," Sephiroth deflated, this moment of excitement immediately ruined. "Great."

"Of course Project S is the greatest thing I have ever produced," Hojo began on another of his self-serving, egotistical, manic speeches about his own brilliance and about how Hollander was as useful as a sponge in the desert. "Don't know why I didn't think of it before! I should just send you down there alone, but of course I must show my face. Otherwise you will merely stand in the back attempting to camouflage against the walls. There is a reason i've made you unable to camouflage, you know. I could do it! I have an iguana! Would it kill you to put on a little showmanship? I'm tired of that inferior red failure garnering all this undeserved attention! Strut about a bit; swing Murry—or whatever your ridiculous sword is called—around some, and if you should accidentally take off the failure's head, then so be it."

Sephiroth really didn't know how best to reply. "... sorry?"

Hojo studied his purple face closely for a while. "Fetch the hose," he eventually muttered to an assistant.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Meanwhile Angeal and Genesis squeezed into Hollander's tiny lab room. It was little more than a cubicle filled with so many godamned plants, beads and tie-dyed cloths that the scientist's desk was barely visible. The pair of Lieutenant Generals stood shoulder-to-shoulder for lack of space and watched as Hollander manoeuvred himself into his seat. It was kind of sad that the desk also had to double as an operating table.

Hollander had fallen from President Shinra's good graces since his rival, Hojo, had seen better success with his experiment. But he and his own two experiments were marginally useful so they were still kept around. Genesis was not bitter about this in the slightest (this is a lie). Of course, once the underdog working beneath both Gast and himself—but now the head of the department—Hojo was being a complete shit about it. That's why Hollander would not lose this time! To regain past glories! Failure was not an option!

He pushed his potted ceanothus aside and levelled a serious gaze at his boys. "I took seventy millilitres of ordinary tap water and put it in this beaker, and seventy millilitres of rainwater collected from the laboratory roof and put it in _this_ beaker... don't ask me why. I just did."

"..."

"..."

Genesis and Angeal simply nodded mutely.

"But anyway," Hollander tried to make a show of spinning around in his chair but it bumped into a fern. He cleared away some of the clutter on what would be a far wall if the room had been large enough for that sort of thing, to reveal a blackboard.

"He couldn't even upgrade to a whiteboard?" Genesis murmured despondently.

"Chalk is better for the environment," Angeal whispered back.

"How is chalk better for the environment?" his friend replied sharply but quietly.

The blackboard let out an atrocious screech causing the men to recoil in pain as Hollander dragged his nails down it. "Chalk is biodegradable! It doesn't choke the Planet with its man-made taint!"

"How is that better? You can't recycle chalk. It just disappears when you've finished it. You're wasting resources," Angeal queried as he poked at his sensitive ear. Not that he actually had much interest either way.

"Chalk is a natural resource! It has a soul and will return to the planet when its purpose is fulfilled! Plastic is a poison!"

"Chalk has a soul," Genesis repeated slowly.

Hollander nodded.

"Wait, wait, wait," the Crimson Lieutenant waved his hands in confusion. "You're telling me chalk has a soul? So when you've used it do all those little bits of dust have souls too, and do they all organise a reunion and merge back into one big, fat soul? Or is it just the one soul you slowly kill as you use it?"

There was a pause before Hollander replied. "I... the soul... lifestream—_just shut up!_ Plastic is a poison!"

"Really? 'cause according to Sephiroth, Hojo recycles his soulless plastics," Genesis shrugged.

"Yeah?" Hollander huffed indignantly. "Well, Hojo can blow me."

"And how is that going to help us win this science-off?"

"Oh! Right!" Hollander snapped his fingers. "The science-off! I forgot about that. To regain past glories! Failure is not an option! Blah, blah."

Angeal facepalmed. Hollander turned his attention to the ball next.

"So that's the thing you stole, huh?" Genesis asked.

"I prefer to think of it as 'requisitioning' it," the professor said. "That damn Hojo thinks he owns the place. Well he doesn't! He only owns _ninety-nine_ percent of the place. This is _my_ one percent of lab space! Whatever comes in here is _my_ property!"

"But you have to walk through the rest of the department to leave," Angeal said slowly. "Does that mean Hojo owns you when you're walking through?"

Genesis laughed. "You are pretty whipped," he commented quietly.

Hollander spun around pointing a stern, chubby finger at the redheaded SOLDIER. "Don't think you're too old to go over my knee, son!"

"Ugh," Genesis wrinkled his nose. "Is that what you're into now? Should I tell accounting?"

Dropping his accusing finger, Hollander eyed his experiment coyly. "You know, Project S doesn't talk to his doctor in such a manner."

"Yeah, well, Seph is kind of a robot, so..."

Angeal smiled proudly when Genesis didn't rise to the bait. Didn't bite the account. Didn't—whatever! Professor Hollander on the other hand, looked disappointed, but there was something sparkling in his vegetarian eyes.

"Really?! Is that true?" he spluttered incoherently with hope. "Because that's the sort of thing that could get a person fired. Or the firing squad. Maybe both! It's like all my birthdays have come at once! I'm so happy! Wait, maybe I could have the robot shoot Ho—the person in question. Sweet, sweet irony!"

"Professor..." Angeal started.

"Oh, just wait until I tell my LARP group! They'll be so proud of me, i'll get to play the King for once! In your face, Jeremy! Now who'll have to play the manure-shovelling peasant who gets stabbed in the first act. Hah! Karma's a bitch!"

"Nobody's a robot, professor," Genesis interrupted. "Unless you're not telling us something..."

Angeal frowned when his friend sent him a suspicious glance.

"No one's a robot? It's not true?" the disappointment in Hollander's voice made even Genesis feel bad, and that was quite the feat. "Oh... well, I guess Jeremy can be the King again..."

"We're sorry, professor," Angeal said.

"Pfff, speak for yourself," Genesis huffed in a weak attempt to regain his stature.

If it wouldn't be weird, or if he weren't worried that his hand might melt, Angeal would've patted his doctor comfortingly on the shoulder similar to how he would when Genesis scuffed his best boots and made a fool of himself in public, or when a nubile young woman would turn down his advances. Or when the secretary on sixth would threaten to call the authorities on him. Or when the new recruits would report sexual harassment causing Sephiroth to put Genesis on President Shinra guard duty. And then the Turks would trick him into putting his head through the security bars and put staplers down his trousers. When he really thought about it, Angeal realised he patted Genesis quite a lot the man's shoulder must have had a hand-shaped indent in it by now. Either way, Hollander wasn't getting his much-enjoyed sympathy, the shit-sweeping LARPer.

Hollander dropped into his chair with a huge childish pout on his bearded face. Completely disregarding his two experiments he grabbed a bag from his desk draw and proceeded to stuff cheesy powdered treats into his depressed fat mouth. This description brought to you by Lieutenant General Genesis.

Angeal and Genesis shared an awkward look. "So. This science-off...?" Angeal prompted.

"This!" Hollander jumped from his seat. He held up a random syringe that had previously been laid abandoned on the desk.

Genesis drew himself back and eyed the medical appliance warily. "What's that?"

"It's a syringe."

Genesis huffed. "Well I know _that_. What's in it?"

Hollander observed the murky substance in the syringe and shrugged nonchalantly. "We'll find out soon." He climbed over the desk for lack of better space to manoeuvre and aimed the needle towards the Crimson Lieutenant.

Angeal looked on worriedly as his friend backed up against (what would be) the far wall, the terror clear in his eyes. As the mystery needle moved closer Genesis folded in on himself, getting entangled in a wall scroll advertising calming breathing exercises and the four essential steps to a more serene inner peace.

"That's enough! Get away from me!" Genesis screamed in fear. Hollander stopped his dramatically slow advance as Genesis waved his hands about in a defensive slapping motion, knocking the syringe across the room and narrowly avoiding skewering Angeal with it. "Ugh, you go too far! If you wanna put sticky liquids in me, that's fine, I'm all for it! But goddamn, wash your hands first, god!"

The professor gazed down at his Cheeto dust encrusted fingers.

"Oh, my god, I nearly got it on me, 'Geal," Genesis breathed frantically as his friend patted his shoulder. "It-it's in his neckbeard and everything! I have to sit down."

Angeal lowered his companion into the sole chair opposite the desk he never would have occupied himself because honour. "I'm sorry, son," Hollander said sadly, but Genesis just shuddered as if a cold cheesy wind had crept up his spine.

"Perhaps we should postpone this... whatever it is," Angeal suggested.

"No, no!" Hollander snapped upright. "There's no need to do that! Look, see! I'm washing my hands, la, la, la." He licked his fingers clean which only caused the pair of friends to stare, then began moving towards them again. "There, all done, see?"

"YOUR BEARRRRRRD!" Genesis shrieked and socked the professor clean in his flapping mouth.

_Bullseye!_ Angeal's bound and gagged inner sense of fun cheered in direct comparison to how the man presented himself to those without the ability to read minds. He moved his Comfort Hand (oh my god, not like that!) from Genesis' shoulder to that of the professor laid out awkwardly over the desk. Of course Hollander had his head and shoulders hanging across the opposite end of the desk, but Angeal's deliberating sense of compassion and unbearable need to be in everyone's personal space drove him to position himself over the professor and claim the man's shoulder with his Comfort Hand.

"If I had a camera..." Genesis chuckled.

"Genesis!" Angeal dismounted the professor and glared sternly at his bestest friend in all the word. "Recovered that quickly?"

The redhead shrugged. "Meh."

There was a long silence broken only by the bubbling of the lavalamps mounted on the walls.

"Well, I guess we should get going?" Angeal rubbed the back of his neck, at a loss as to what to actually do.

"Ughh..." Hollander righted himself and shook off the effect of being punched in the talker by a super-SOLDIER. "We should just... get down there. I'll think of something on the way... argh."

"Just don't blow Hojo, okay," Genesis said shortly, causing Hollander to give him a strange and insulted look.

"And don't forget the ball," Angeal reminded his doctor, to which the well-fed man grabbed his most precious bargaining chip. "And you; apologise to the professor."

"Excuse me, professor," Genesis reluctantly said as he tried to think of a way to apologise that would allow him keep his dignity and yet satisfy Angeal at the same time. "Are you wearing socks with sandals?"

"... yes," Hollander sobbed.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

"**This should be entertaining." Dead-Zack and Dead-Aerith had settled themselves down in the lifestream, watching the events through their state-of-the-art flat-screen ghost-LCD HDMI ready Dolby Digital surround sound TV with the nifty 3D effect and green tint, that they totally hadn't appropriated from the old folks section of the lifestream.**

The arena had been set-up outside the main building in the courtyard after reports came from Reeve that Hojo was working with The Purple Mist again. It was a simple, slightly raised circular platform surrounded with spectators stands that were filled to collapsing point with SOLDIERs and ShinRa employees. Local pundits had somehow (bribery) infiltrated the event to hock their shoddy merchandise at inflated prices, and had so far, somehow (more bribery), avoided security. It wasn't every day that the average employee got to see the charming and charismatic Genesis, the admirable and respectful Angeal and the awe-inspiring face of SOLDIER, General Sephiroth together. So the one guy selling knock-off _My Little Prez_ dolls, and Sephiroth, Genesis and Angeal figurines was making a killing and would probably end up hired as a ShinRa suit for his cunning. Don't say that the ShinRa Electric Company doesn't offer poors soul-sucking, nine 'til five, unrewarding job prospects with no health coverage or pension. That is libel. Off to Corel Prison with you!

The much sought after science-ball sat on its own little podium, being guarded closely by a crack team of nobody.

Hojo presented himself first and ordered Sephiroth into the centre of the ring. Sephiroth couldn't have looked more unenthusiastic if he'd tried.

"**Oh, he's fallen back on Seph again," Zack scoffed in the process of throwing popcorn into his mouth. "Man doesn't have another original idea in his head. He always resorts to releasing Seph."**

Hollander stepped forward next and indicated his boys. Angeal and Genesis looked more confused than anything else.

"**No surprises here either. Do something different!" Aerith heckled.**

"Two against one?" Hojo sneered. "I see your sense of sportsmanship hasn't improved."

"What's this I'm hearing?" Hollander feigned an expression of shock. "You think you can't handle my boys? You're intimidated. Are you admitting my boys are better?"

(because that is a blatant lie)

"Nothing of the sort!" Hojo snapped. "Sephiroth, attack!"

Sephiroth turned around with a look that expressed he'd much rather attack than do whatever had already been organised between them, but the matter was out of his hand. "We're not doing that," he reminded the professor.

"Precious, attack!"

"No." Sephiroth stunned the butt-monster once again.

"Ah, maybe another time," Hojo accepted defeat, but glared at Genesis who blew a raspberry in return.

The two-headed canine(?) was dragged from the stage by the nervous looking, poor soul who could only be described as a reluctant referee.

"**Poor, Kunsel," Zack frowned, but was really grinning.**

With the monster safely deposited over the side of the arena, Kunsel now had the pants-shittingly terrifying job of arranging the three SOLDIERs to face the spectators, and only Angeal was willing to co-operate, probably in part due to sympathy. Sephiroth wouldn't take orders (or requests, or pleadings, or begging) from anyone other than Hojo or the President, and Genesis just plain refused. But eventually they were organised after Hojo whipped out his pointy stick. The kind used to point at things.

Then some apparatus began to be brought and set-up on stage which elicited a barely audible groan from Sephiroth. Angeal and Genesis considered their friend, perplexed as to what was even happening right now, but going by the silver-haired man's reaction it was not good. Things moved along quicker and...

"What the hell is this meant to be?" Genesis spluttered. "A dog show?!"

"We never agreed to this!" Angeal continued.

"I did," Sephiroth muttered despondently.

Then it struck the vegetarian genetic scientist. His eyes widened upon the realisation.

"You stole my idea!" Hollander shouted.

"As has already been proven today; if anyone is a thief it is you," Hojo snapped back.

Evidently, Hollander's last minute idea was of a similar vein as Hojo's well-thought out master plan. To show off their best scientific achievement was to put their prized SOLDIERs through an obstacle course akin to a dog show to be judged by an entirely non-biased panel of their own lab assistants. Sephiroth sighed. As if he hadn't witnessed Hojo do the same thing with Precious, but at least now Genesis and Angeal would have to suffer along with him. It maybe didn't seem so bad in that respect.

Oh... no, nevermind. It was still pretty demeaning.

_But then why would Hollander think of something like this?_ Sephiroth's expression asked.

_I don't know! _Genesis looked distressed.

The clearing of his throat brought all attention to Hojo as he tapped his little extendible pointing stick across his palm. "Let's begin, shall we?" Not caring for any pretences he jabbed the stick in Sephiroth's direction and indicated him sharply.

Sephiroth himself didn't really look any different than he would on the average day. If anything, he looked vaguely ruffled, as if he could snap at any moment, and then everyone one present would regret it. Whatever 'it' was. Not that any of this really mattered as the entire arena was silent and openly gawking at the General. When it came to Sephiroth nothing much needed to be said aloud—he was beautiful and dangerous, and everyone wanted to be him or be with him.

"I rest my case," Hojo smugly snapped his pointer down, radiating an air of superiority that almost suffocated the place. It was a while before anyone else spoke up.

Hollander scoffed. "Your project doesn't even know how to use the public transport system."

"No?" Hojo scowled. "Well my project can fall from twenty stories without damaging his femur!"

Sephiroth looked annoyed at this. He didn't fall, he was just gravitationally challenged! And did people _have_ to keep bringing that incident up? Genesis rubbed his femur in embarrassment.

"MY projects can see beyond the event horizon!"

"I don't—that's not actually possible," Hojo said quietly.

Angeal rubbed his eyeballs in shame.

"Project S can breathe underwater!"

"Projects G can breathe _in_ _space!_"

"Project S has _no need_ to breathe!"

"Projects G _have never _breathed!"

"Alright, I'll put it in a language you imbeciles can understand." Hojo turned to the audience, "would you rather have two back alley burgers that the clerk spat in, or a single five star cuisine?"

"Just keep in mind that the cuisine has no people skills," Hollander quickly pointed out.

"W-what. Why would cuisine need people skills?!" Hojo snapped.

"Your cuisine is defective! My two burgers are well-adjusted to the outside world."

"That is irrelevant. Cuisine is produced for battle!"

"I think you'll find that burgers work well in teams. I have never seen cuisine anything but a loner."

"My cuisine is the ultimate lifeform! Your burgers just make people sick."

Hollander paused a second. "Wait... we're still talking about the boys, yeah?"

"Ah, to hell with it. Just fight," Hojo grunted. "We all know who'll win."

And not a single spectator was surprised with this eventual breakdown in competition. Sephiroth remained as unresponsive as a brick wall, Angeal held out his hands in exasperation, Genesis haughtily crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, **and** **Dead-Zack and Dead-Aerith exchanged money. **In fact, the only people who looked even remotely interested about this change in procedure were the two professors.

"**Welp, nothing more to see here, folks," Dead-Zack informed the large group of other dead people who had gathered to watch their stolen TV.**

"**You're just saying that 'cause you lost all your money," an anonymous old guy said.**

**Zack watched his fellow dead girlfriend flip through and flaunt her ill-gotten gains. "In hindsight, I probably should've known they'd end up fighting. I'm an idiot."**

"**Hindsight is 20/20," some old woman said.**

"**Are those the odds of who'll win?"**

"**Want to bet on it?" Aerith asked.**

"**No!"**

Now all the spectators moved _the fuck_ away. This is the reason why they were not amused with the recent turn of events. It wasn't every day a random ShinRa scrub got to see the three top SOLDIERs battle it out. It also wasn't every day that they ran the risk of being incinerated by a stray fireball.

Professor Hojo looked positively giddy that just the mere thought of eradicating that smug red failure would cause him to lose all control over his bowels. Professor Hollander had the determined look of someone who had been ridiculed and laughed at their whole life, which is to say; he didn't look much different than normal.

With a practised air or boredom, Sephiroth, Angeal and Genesis readied themselves. It was common knowledge that they sparred with each other, there being no other matching up to their ability, let alone their competence (this is a debatable point), but there was no heart to this display.

"Get ready, Sephiroth. You're going to be destroyed and then I shall stand above ShinRa."

"You will never stand taller than me. Unless you get on Angeal's shoulders."

Genesis looked to his friend.

"No, Genesis, we're not doing that," Angeal told him.

Also, Hojo was creepily leering at Genesis and he didn't need that.

Possibly because of this reason, or perhaps because Genesis was kind of stupid, he moved first. Angeal could only sigh as he watched his friend dart across the arena—he really had better things to be doing than playing on the whims of the two scientists. Like he had his scratchy beard to thoroughly groom and be upset that no one had commented on his attempted moustache yet.

Rapier met Masamune with a lightning fast clash of steel.

"**Whoa, awesome!"**

"**Such power!"**

Hmmm. Maybe he just wasn't putting himself out there enough for people to notice. His best friend _was_ Genesis after all, and if there was anyone to steal the limelight it was the Crimson Lieutenant. By comparison to his fellow SOLDIERs he was a rather bland-looking individual. He didn't have weird silver hair or wear bright red leather. Perhaps he should look into a unique uniform.

"**Did you see that?!" Aerith gasped. "Amazing."**

"**I wish everyone could witness this spectacular battle," Zack commented.**

As one of the top three of SOLDIER he did deserve a unique uniform. Something refined but rugged. He did have the biggest guns of his three friends (Angeal subconsciously flexed his biceps). Something sleeveless, possibly in a dark, strong material. With shoulder pads of course—there were no need to break the trend his group had going. He'd need matching trousers, loose enough to allow for easy movement, and sturdy combat boots. So—he looked down at himself—basically exactly what he were already wearing.

_Oh, for—Someone comment on my moustache, damnit!_

Sephiroth was almost caught off guard when Angeal suddenly attacked from his other side. Now this was just getting silly. Genesis was jumping all over the place as if the floor was lava and now Angeal was shouting about ungrateful friends and the facial hair they apparently couldn't grow. Someone had do _something_, and clearly it was him.

"Mmmm." Sephiroth abruptly lowered Masamune. "I really want to eat a ginger snap right now."

Both Genesis and Angeal lowered their own weapons in response. "Now that I think about it, I did have to skip breakfast this morning," Angeal said.

"I hear jam sponge is on the menu in the mess today," Genesis grinned toothily.

"Ginger snaps first," Sephiroth said with an air of finality.

Nobody so much as uttered a peep as the three super-SOLDIERs left the room all the while cheerfully conversing with each other about lunch. Professors Hojo and Hollander remained standing awkwardly at their sides of the ring.

"**That was a phenomenal display of prowess and I feel sorry for those who didn't have it described for them."**

Hojo regarded his opponent with disdain. "There's only one way to end this," he said shortly. Both men stalked forward so that they stood face-to-face. "How every scientist resolves their disputes."

"**No worries, folks!" Zack announced. "It's time for another throw down!"**

"Scientific Charades!" Hollander declared to the room. Not wasting any time Hojo immediately threw himself in first.

"Okay then, what's this?" he held out his hands with his thumbs crossed.

"A neutron star about to collapse in on itself," Hollander guessed.

"Tsk, correct."

"Now my turn." Hollander put his arm behind his head and interconnected it with his arm from the front, then bobbed his head. "What is this?"

"The migratory path of the Midgar bandersnatch."

"Yeah, okay, that was an easy one," Hollander conceded.

Now Hojo began jogging in place intermittently whirling his arms around and squawking.

"No noises!" his opponent snapped. "The physiology of a hell house..."

As this continued an audience member, one Cloud Strife, sat in the stands gobsmacked. "What the _shit_ did I just watch?!"

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**a/n:** The great thing about writing episodic chapters is I can change positions and not have it matter... i can change the chapter positions. Not me. The chapters. This was originally chapter 11, then 7 and now 6. Because the original chapter 6 is dull and writing it is causing me to commit seppuku. Aren't you excited now?! Don't forget to **review** if you are of the opinion that chalk has a soul.


	7. Birds! Birds! Birds!

**Author:** Zhampy  
**Rating:** T / PG-15  
**Genre:** Humour/Romance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own a single thing in the FFVII Compilation. See if you can spot all the references I steal throughout this fic!  
**Summery:** Cloud finds an injured owl that flew into his window. He decides to keep it, naming it "Hooter", but everytime he talks about his pet everyone thinks he's talking about seeing a prostitute. He is eventaully reprimanded for this behaviour but corrects himself to Sephiroth.  
**Contains:** Main pairing is one-sided **Cloud/Sephiroth** with a **Zack/Aerith** side-dish and some other minor pairings. Some OOCness for humourous purposes, AR, couple of OCs, and occasional foul language.

**a/n:** "Bird" is slang for an attractive woman, for you non-Brits. It's also a feathered avian.

**Modus Operandi  
**_Episode Seven – Birds! Birds! Birds!_

Laying in his bunk that evening, Cloud considered his position: he was sort of laid half on his side and half on his back. One arm thrust under his two flat pillows (the second of which he had acquired from Walker), and his other arm folded against his chest. His legs were slightly bent as he tried to conserve heat under the thin blanket, and Granville was sleeping on the top bunk dead as a rock and muttering.

Oh, and also he'd been back in the past for a few months now. He'd spend his days training with Zack (and Angeal sometimes), being heckled by Genesis and humiliating himself in front of Sephiroth. Speaking of Sephiroth, the General seemed a lot less inclined to spewing genocidal monologues and more interested in keeping his trap shut. Which was nice. It made it so much easier for Cloud to repeatedly put his foot in his own mouth.

Things had certainly changed since he'd last been a sixteen-year-old, that was for sure. For a start he'd never heard of Angeal and Genesis before, and since when had fanclubs been an official thing? He didn't understand how though. Wasn't there something called the butterfly effect were stuff changed in the future as things happened in the past? Well of course. That was what he was doing right now!

So who the hell had gone back further into the past to change all this new bullshit that was happening right now? Last he remembered it had only been Zack and Sephiroth dicking about, and him being useless. Some things hadn't changed (he was still useless), but it was still confusing.

"Aerith..."

"**Eh," the flower girl boredly answered. "Maybe some other dead person sent their friend back further to change things for you."**

"How can you not know?" Cloud whispered, mindful of not waking Granville.

"**We don't keep track of all our dead friends, Cloud," Zack remarked. "They're not nearly as entertaaa—time consuming as you."**

"**We're not the only ones in the lifestream mucking up someone's life, you know."**

"**Holy crap, you should see what George is doing to his ex."**

**Aerith sighed wistfully. "Such bitterness. Such vindication. Such creativity. I admire him."**

"**We should compare notes," Zack whispered secretively, but as he were a voice in Cloud's head it wasn't really secretive at all, and he'd just given away his hand. If Cloud knew at all who this George fellow was. Which he didn't. So he supposed Zack still did have his hand... figuratively speaking.**

"**Now let us never speak of this again!"**

Cloud grunted and decided he shouldn't really care at such a late hour. He rolled over fully onto his side and hugged his hands to his chest more comfortably. Lulled to sleep by his roommate's mumblings about hot cross buns and raspberry jam, Cloud felt his eyelids drooping and didn't fight it.

_THUD!_

He bolted up in bed.

"What was that!?"

"...the butter hasn't melted...nnn," Granville curled around his pillow.

So Cloud ignored him. Looking around it was too dark to actually see anything, despite that doctors had already begun pumping him full of mako. Slowly he slid out of bed and tiptoed around old socks and soiled (gross!) underwear and other motley pieces of discarded clothing and assorted mouldy food items. He carefully approached his desk by the window.

"What was that, Pete?" Cloud consulted his cactus. "Did you see anything?"

"..." Pete replied, for he is a cactus you see.

Deciding to risk it he slid the window open and poked his head out into the clammy summer night. Looking around nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. _Hmmm, imaginary Sephiroth maybe?_ he thought.

"**Not-so-imaginary Sephiroth!" Head-Zack suddenly yelled.**

With a yelp of surprise Cloud threw himself to the floor, twisting his body so he could face upwards and deflect the oncoming attack. But as he laid there for a while nothing more happened.

"**HAHAHAHA!" Zack howled. "Ha, ha, ha, this is never gonna get old."**

Rising to his feet again Cloud embarrassedly brushed off some non-existent dust from his blue-striped pyjamas. "So help me god, Zack, when i'm dead I am going to punch you _so_ hard, you have no idea."

His only reply was more laughter.

Ugh, whatever. To preserve any remaining dignity Cloud took one last look out the window and spotted it! Just below his window laid flat out and unmoving was a small brown bird.

"Heh, dumb bird," he snickered. Then glancing to the side he noticed a neat bird-shaped smudge on the glass pane, and thinking back to the time he'd smashed his own face into a hard object, winced in sympathy. "Keep an eye on Granville," Cloud told Pete, who remained as stoic as ever.

Then he climbed from the window. The dumb bird had landed rather precariously on a large pipe that jutted out from the building for whatever reason. Probably a steam pipe or water pipe or something. Either way it made it difficult for Cloud to balance as he dropped down. But Cloud was a pro now—not the bumbling idiot he'd been originally—well, in his mind he was. His body seemed to disagree, however, as he inched forward in a most unimpressive display that would surely fail him during a SOLDIER exam, and pounced on the unconscious bird.

With bird now in hand Cloud looked back up at his window. It was _well_ out of reach. "Mmm. Should've thought this through," he pointed out the obvious.

To any outsider it would seem very strange that a cadet should be scaling the side of the barracks in only his stripy pyjamas with a small bird clutched in his hands. To the security guard observing the action it was merely yet another night in the system of ShinRa, and they didn't pay him _nearly_ enough to investigate further.

Now Cloud was frustrated that he couldn't return to his room. If he dumped the flying rat he could easily jump back up, but with one hand occupied? Who did he think he was? A superhero?! No. His other option was taking a tumble down the side of the building, but he didn't particularly feel like breaking his ankles tonight. So that left him with one other last remaining secret option.

He lobbed that concussed bird through his window and climbed back in like the pro he believed himself to be. That wasn't the secret option or anything. That's a secret.

Upon his re-entry to the room Cloud began the search for the bird. He tackled the Maze of Unpleasantness and found the bird laid mangled in bed right beside his roommate. Holding his breath he slowly reached for the thing but just as he made contact Granville snatched it from his grasp, hugging it in his sleep. Cloud growled and it was all he could do not to gift the boy with a concussion of his own. Then a thought struck him. He dodged the Obstacle Course of Foulness and grabbed Pete, then once again braved the Test of Filth to reach the bunk. He deftly swapped the probably dead bird with Pete.

"Now I don't want you to worry," Cloud rushed to reassure Pete. "Birdy here isn't going to replace you. You'll always be my most special little guy."

Pete reacted neither positively nor negatively to this news.

"Oww..." Granville sleepily murmured as he lovingly embraced the cactus.

Scrutinising the small feathered pest, Cloud took it into the tiny bathroom he had to share with his roommate. The unconscious heap was small; small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Either it was a baby or some kind of munchkin breed, or developmentally challenged. This suddenly endeared it to him as if he felt a connection with the overbalanced, large-headed avian with big soul-crushing eyes and awkwardly large feet that apparently had a habit of flying head first into hard objects. Why, he had no idea. No idea!

Either way, no matter how he felt about it, keeping animals in the barracks was strictly illegal. As if he hadn't already known that then his roommate's whinging about having to leave his childhood family, multi-eyed, bug-monster pet at home would have certainly drilled it into his head.

Not that he hadn't done anything illegal before. Technically, he were lying about his age, now actually being twenty-four and a sixteen-year-old body, but that were hardly his fault, he grumbled in his head to guilty silence. And the heavy drinking was pretty illegal too. And he'd stolen a pair of boots from an older cadet a few weeks back. And he continuously kept sneaking off grounds through that break in the wall just passed that patch of meticulously groomed grass. Climbing the side of the building was probably also not kosher.

So, if he were honest with himself, he did do a lot of illegal things.

Besides, he could pin the blame on Granville anyway.

Everyone else did.

He dumped the owl in the bath and sprinkled it with the showerhead. He did this with malice and without gentleness if anyone asks. The bird immediately snapped awake, screeching and flapping and generally raising a huge fuss over a light sprinkle of warm water. If he were careful he could probably sell it to Walker for a pretty penny (people ate owls, right?) and then immediately hand that earned gil back over in exchange for goods and services of the mind-altering variety.

"Shut up, bird," Cloud hissed and grabbed the thing firmly.

"Hoo!"

The bedraggled thing turned it's head 180 degrees to face him.

Angels sang.

Cloud found himself captivated like a victim in the headlights of a Doomtrain, only instead of being obliterated by a nightmarish fever dream of painful locomotive, he were obliterated by big soulful eyes, adorable and pleading in their innocence.

"Awww," his bottom lip trembled.

The owl tilted its head further to what looked to be a painful angle and his fist held her like an ice cream cone; one big head—all eyes—begging him.

"H-how are you doing this to me?"

Boring into his soul; he could feel his carefully constructed, cold walls of indifference crumbling around him.

"Stupid—stupid bird..."

"Hoo?"

Cloud fell to his knees in defeat. The owl scrambled from his slack grip and propped herself up on his head, hooting and cooing victoriously.

At a later point in the night Granville had been pecked, scratched, trodden on, sworn at, kicked and shat on (by the bird, I assure you). Cloud sat with his owl on the edge of the bath with a handful of birdseed he had commandeered from the mounted chocobo stables' provisions.

"I think i'll call you Hooter," Cloud announced to the bird. "You like that?"

Hooter cocked her head so cutely that Cloud nearly melted. "Hoo?"

"Okay, Hooter it is," Cloud practically squealed. "Now what to do with you..."

What would Tifa do? No, he probably shouldn't punch it.

What would Barret do? He'd already sworn at it a whole bunch.

What would Nanaki do? It... didn't really look very delicious.

**"What would Zack do?" Zack interjected.**

What would Cid do...?

"Sit your bird-butt down and eat your goddamned birdseed!"

And by hell, did that bird put its butt down and eat its goddamn birdseed.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

A few days later and things had settled down for both Cloud and Hooter. Their days remained the same repetitive routine of training and eating birdseed. Hooter would be a gifted SOLDIER and Cloud really loved his damn birdseed. Now Cloud was sat in the mess hall after a particularly humiliating sparring session with his (as Zack would have him say) Master and Sensei, that uber talented and incredibly handsome and charming, babe magnet, SOLDIER Second-First candidate, Zachary Fair.

Zack had managed to clonk him on the head with the flat of his sword. Now Cloud had a bandaged skull as he ate (what was apparently passable by the health regulations of ShinRa) the canteen grub. He wouldn't be at all surprised if there where actual grubs in the food. His close selection of who he considered to be friends (and Private Walker) sat at his table conversing loudly and excitably.

"So I hear Captain Thompson is having secret liaisons with a Turk," one boy said as he stuffed mashed potato into his mouth.

"That is sick!" a second one said.

"Guy's a fucking race traitor! Imagine; a Turk."

"I hear he has a liking for jailbait."

"Ew, that cradle robber!"

"Fucking pervert!"

"You'd better watch out, Cloud. You're just his type."

"Nah," Cloud shook his head. "I hear he's moved onto someone else. Palmer."

"Oh, ew... EW!"

"Yeah, I hear he likes to stick his rocket up someone's space station."

"Okay, that's enough, stop talking!" The boys gagged on their meal. There was a quiet moment of revulsion as it was plainly obvious each boy was imagining the situation despite all efforts not to. Their disgusting reverie was broken when the first boy spoke up again.

"Well, I can assure you, my friends, what i'm sticking _my_ rocket up is a hot piece of—"

And then the boys devolved into a band of savages each bragging about the hot woman they met out on the latest beer run. Cloud grumbled to himself about how the last "hot woman" he had seen had tricked him into joining the fanclub of the infinatly hotter General. And now he constantly received text messages updating him as to where Sephiroth had last been seen, and what he'd been wearing and who he'd been talking to, what he'd last eaten, and when he'd tripped in the hall that one time and Anastasia had sent pictures to all her loyal club members.

Not that Cloud didn't appreciate gazing at an image of the living weapon who had last been seen sticking his sword through some anonymous chump's guts (while wearing his usual uniform, speaking to no one and then eating a prawn cracker), now looking around a seemingly empty hall all sheepish-like, as if he'd just been caught with his pants down. It was disarmingly adorable and the image had been stashed away for his own, uh, personal use.

"So, who've you banged lately, Cloud?" his friend asked.

Cloud spat out a half-chewed carrot slice back onto his plate and spluttered incoherently.

"W-what!?"

"Cloud spends all his time getting shitfaced at my place," Walker informed the group.

"Oh, huh. No time for women, huh?"

"You should learn to multi-task, man. Getting drunk and laid, it's every man's paradise!"

"Nah, Cloud is a Silver Elite now. He's probably too busy jerking it to the General," his first friend grinned. When those at the table all looked to him for clarification he continued; "Granville told me."

The power of speech refused to come to him. Cloud was mortified. But really, what defence did he have? He really was jerking it to Sephiroth, and obviously not quietly enough.

"I... I have a bird!" he blurted.

"Yeah?" His friends watched him carefully.

"Responsibilities!" he continued. "To my bird!"

"So you're attached, and it's serious? Probably should stop getting blasted at mine all the time then," Walker suggested.

Cloud giggled nervously. "Heh, heh, yeah. She's so expensive. I have to buy her food and water."

"She sounds high maintenance."

"Uh huh, uh huh," Cloud nodded vigorously, now just happy that he had managed to divert attention away from how he whacked his little cadet. "And I have to buy her toys."

He friends then laughed for some reason and Cloud frowned.

"Can you not satisfy her?" one asked.

"Probably can't get it up now that his blood is ninety percent alcohol," Walker chortled into his mashed potato swimming in gravy.

Regardless of their nonsensical comments Cloud would continue talking about Hooter until he could escape. "And I have to clean up the mess she makes on Granville."

His friends suddenly stopped eating and looked at him. "You share your bird with your roommate?"

"Well, I don't _want_ to," Cloud muttered almost jealously. "But she seems really attracted to him. She likes to sit on his face and always makes such a mess, and it stinks!"

"... dammmn!" his friends whooped. "Can we meet her sometime?"

Cloud paused, thinking it over. Only he and Granville knew about Hooter, but she was such a beautiful bird he was finding it hard not to show her off. "I guess, but you've got to be careful. She's... illegal."

"Illegal? How?" his friend asked.

Walker made a few vulgar hand gestures to the group and with a collective "oohhh" they understood.

"Don't worry, we can be discreet," his other friend winked.

"So where did you pick her up?" the first boy asked.

"Outside my window. She was unconscious," Cloud said happily.

"Uh, okay," Walker replied uneasily. "So, er... is she fit?"

Cloud shrugged as he finally felt comfortable enough to return to his questionable meal. "About as fit as any other bird I suppose."

His friends all shrugged in return, and his brunette friend clapped him on the back. "Well, congrats, Cloud! And here we all thought you where a raging homophile! Congrats on your... 'female companion'."

The rest of their time spent in the mess hall passed as innocently and as mundane as a regular day, and soon it was time for Cloud (the only SOLDIER candidate of his group of friends) to make his way to his next training session. As he left he missed the impressed gazes that followed him out. His friends all turned to look at each other.

"Damn, wish I could get a prostitute that interested in me," one of the boys said.

And sure enough, a persistent rumour began quickly spreading throughout the barracks...

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

It was few exhausting hours later when Cloud left the AR room after he had had his arse handed to him on a crimson platter by a hologram Genesis. The technicians had assured him that it was extremely unlikely that he'd be able to best a SOLDER First simulation when he'd only just recently begun receiving his mako shots, but that didn't exactly make him feel any more chipper about it.

As he walked down the hall in the direction of his quarters he began to notice people looking at him and whispering amongst themselves, some discreetly and some staring as if the mako shots had caused him to grow another head from his back that also happened to be eyeing him strangely. He looked back at those ones until they turned away. Upon further inspection and through his continued experience of walking a few metres further down the hall, it seemed as if all the men where grinning at him whilst all the women were avoiding his gaze. As he were watching this odd behaviour he bumped into a male PA to some ShinRa schmuck important enough to require an assistant but not a name.

"Nice job, kid!" the older man said to him.

"Uh, thanks," Cloud replied warily.

"Heard you got yourself quite the bird!" another guy said.

"Yeah, she is pretty great," Cloud nodded.

"Get on, my son!" the janitor gave him a thumbs up.

"Yeahh, right on," Cloud confusedly returned the gesture.

"You're a hero to us all!" a high-ranking official applauded.

"I try my best," Cloud bowed his head politely.

"You make me sick," a female secretary said as he passed by her desk.

"Um, sorry to hear that..." Cloud muttered.

And a little further down the hall...

"I hear you're having sex with a prostitute," another man in a smart suit said.

"Uhh, no, Mr Non Sequitur, but thanks?"

These people were weird. Well, weirder than the usual. Then he flashed back to accidentally walking in on Lieutenant Genesis waxing his eyelids. Well, maybe not as weird as that.

"Oh, well. Hooter will make me feel better."

"About that..."

Cloud spun and literally (read: not literally) jumped out of his boots in shock as Zack had either silently crept up behind him, or simply materialised there. "Don't do that to me!" he said breathlessly, but Zack didn't acknowledge his words. The Second class looked uncomfortable and... nervous?

"Listen, Cloud," Zack began uncharacteristically curt. "We have to talk. Come to my office."

Cloud frowned, really not liking how this was sounding. "I-I have to get back to my quarters. I have something to do..."

"We all know who you have to _do_," Zack retorted brusquely to Cloud's puzzlement. "Just follow me."

Uncertainly and probably just as nervously as his best friend, Cloud followed Zack along the maze that was the ShinRa Tower hallway system. He kept instep behind his superior as he'd been taught, but quickly noticed that they were not headed for the communal office Zack shared with other mentor SOLDIERs. They where headed to the private floor only those with great influence within the company could access. He stopped suddenly behind Zack, almost crashing into him.

"This isn't your office," he said carefully.

Zack only sighed. "Angeal's letting my use his office for this. More private."

Clouds eyes widened in realisation before he smiled cheekily. "Look, Zack, if you wanted some _alone time_ with me you could just come to my room. I'll kick Granville out, I don't mind!"

"What?" Zack sputtered. "What?! No! Cloud, no! Just... argh, get inside."

"My pleasure," Cloud wagged his eyebrows and wiggled his way into the lavish office.

The office that he just now realised was across the hall from Sephiroth's, and presumably Genesis' as well. To say Lieutenant General Angeal liked fish was an understatement akin to implying Sephiroth handled mental trauma well. The actual walls of his office were giant fishtanks filled not with beautiful or unique, colourful tropical fish, but plain silver-grey freshwater fish. Rainbow trout, trench, sturgeons, herring, pike, catfish. Heck, there was even a stuffed swordfish placed above his desk which had probably died in this freshwater hellscape.

Zack leant against the front of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. For some reason he refused to meet Cloud's eye. "You have to get rid of your... bird."

"My wha? You want me to get rid of Hooter!?"

"Oh, god. You call her Hooter," Zack dropped his forehead into his hands in despair.

Cloud scoffed. "Well, have you got any better names?"

Zack shook his head. "Isn't it degrading of you to name your... 'female companion'? Surely she has a name of her own?"

"She probably does, but I don't speak bird!" Cloud said angrily.

"Speak bird...? Cloud!" Zack was horrified. "I didn't know you thought like this!"

"And I thought you were my friend! Now you're making me get rid of the only thing that makes me feel comfortable in this place?"

"... 'thing'?" After a pause Zack rubbed his temples. Cloud was not backing down. "Listen, buddy. I know how tough it is training for SOLDIER. At times I... I've sought out, er, professional comfort too. But you can't bring her back to the barracks and live with her. You're affecting my chances of promotion!"

"Hooter is my friend and I love her and she loves me!"

Zack sighed with frustration. "I'm not denying that, Cloud. I'm not even denying you _her_. Just not in the barracks."

Cloud looked down a the floor with big blue, heart-wrenchingly sorrowful eyes. "I... I know it's illegal. I'm just... I get lonely and-and I hate Granville _so much_," he shook his fists immaturely.

"It's okay, I'd hate your roommate too," Zack nodded in understanding. "You... haven't caught anything have you? I could get medical—"

"I caught her?" Cloud interrupted.

Zack smiled sadly. "Of course you did, buddy. 'course you did."

"I did!" Cloud persisted impudently.

Zack wrapped his strong arms around Cloud in a friendly gesture. "It's okay, Spikey. I know it has nothing to do with money. She loves you."

"Yeah, she does... wait, money? What?"

With a sigh Zack took Cloud's shoulders with his hands and looked him sternly in the eye. Whoever guessed that he'd be explaining the business of prostitution to his teenage friend had just won the jackpot. Which was nobody because _nobody was supposed to get into these situations._

"A lady of the night will stay with you as long as you're paying for her. You understand this right?"

Cloud was utterly speechless. The only thing that came out of his mouth was: "ah-buh?!"

Zack crushed what he assumed to be a heartbroken Cloud to his chest tightly and hugged him for all he was worth. It really sucked being dumped, _especially_ after paying for it.

"I'm sorry, Spikey. Someone had to tell you."

Cloud pushed him away in horror and to Zack's worried surprise. "Hooter is a _bird!_" he shouted.

Zack felt like crying for his best friend. So lonely, so broken, so insistent. He reached out again, offering his hand for comfort in the same way Angeal had taught him. But Cloud jumped away from him as if he had spontaneously combusted.

"Hooter is a _bird!_" Cloud reiterated desperately.

"I know, buddy."

"I can't believe you!" Cloud yelled, throwing an ungainly punch that didn't connect anyway. "You really think I pick up—oh, my god! _Hooter is a bird!_"

He shoved passed his best friend without looking back.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Cloud slammed the office door so hard it rattled on its hinges.

"Those mako boosters are taking affect already, I see."

Cloud just about swallowed his own tongue when he saw who was talking to him. At the implication he turned back to look at the door and noticed it had suffered a large crack in its wooden surface. Merely cosmetic damage, but to think he almost had the strength to break a door in two threatened to force the goofiest grin onto his face. Then he turned back to Sephiroth and all his blood ran south instead.

"I see Fair still lacks the ability to reprimand his students."

Cloud frowned.

"I apologise for eavesdropping," Sephiroth said, but with a tone that suggested he couldn't actually give less of a frig. "You were shouting very loud."

Cloud could only imagine what enhanced hearing could do for accidentally overhearing a whole lot of private information. He certainly wouldn't want to hear about what President Shinra did at the Honeybee Inn, or what favourite brand of toilet paper Heideggar liked. He took a discreet gulp and launched himself into his excuses. "I'm sorry if we disturbed you, sir. I have a problem with—"

"You have been bringing questionable company into the barracks," Sephiroth interrupted rudely, because he could get away with doing that because c'mon.

"No, I—how much did you hear?"

"Money exchanged hands. Are you aware that is illegal behaviour?"

"Hooter is a _bird_," Cloud practically sobbed despite himself.

"So I hear."

"An owl! Hooter is an owl."

Sephiroth stopped as if processing this information, and Cloud hung onto that silence hopefully. "Is that slang? I'm afraid I'm not educated in each regional dialect of Midgar."

Cloud flopped down helplessly.

"Hooter is an owl I rescued. She flew into my window and I saved her. I-I know it's illegal to keep pets in our quarters, but she definitely isn't a prostitute! Zack is an idiot and I am going to beat him so hard next time we play Battleship he'll be having nightmares about F10."

If Cloud didn't know any better he'd think that Sephiroth were amused by this.

"You're keeping an owl in your quarters," Sephiroth said for clarification.

Solemnly, Cloud nodded. "Yes, sir."

There was another pause and Cloud watched his General carefully as the man blatantly considered him. If only Cloud could have known what was going through that brilliant tactical mind.

It was this: _"This weed of a child is Officer Cadet Cloud."_

"_That is not polite."_

"_Pfff."_

"_I feel like I know him somehow."_

"_Well I should hope so. He's Zack's friend."_

"_You see him training with Angeal sometimes."_

"_Bit early to be going senile yet, buddy."_

"_Not that. He seems dangerous somehow."_

"_Really? **Really?**"_

"_Look at him!"_

"_His head is huge! He looks top heavy."_

"_And those feet look like the belong on a flamingo."_

"_Don't breathe too much or you may flatten him."_

"_Wait, what was the original problem?"_

"_Oh, the bird."_

"_An owl, not a prostitute."_

"_Well, Angeal did tell you to stop being such a bastard to the cadets."_

"_This is one of those times, right?"_

"_I will admit to not being good at this."_

"_Gotta start somewhere!"_

"_In that case, probably should've started with that cadet who got his head trapped in the photocopier."_

"_Well... yeah."_

Cloud was startled out of his own thoughts as Sephiroth suddenly cleared his throat.

The General coughed awkwardly before speaking; "I think, under the circumstances, I may have been rendered temporarily deaf throughout this conversation."

"Sir?" Cloud stared.

"I haven't heard anything about any cadet keeping an owl in their quarters."

"Sir!" Cloud grinned despite himself.

"It is not like," Sephiroth continued for some unknown reason, "any other high ranking officers are harbouring a pet cat named Grímnir."

Understanding dawning upon him, Cloud nodded wickedly. "It'll be our dirty little secret."

Sephiroth merely performed a perfect impression of Hooter and cocked his head to one side, making Cloud weak in the knees.

"Uh! I mean 'cause birds are dirty," he struggled to not say anything stupid. "They poop everywhere, ha, ha, ha..."

And without another word Sephiroth turned back into his office.

Cloud stared after the closed door for a heart-stopping minute. "OH, MY GOD! Did I just say 'poop' to the General? Fuck my life!"

With numb legs he tore away down the hall to get away from this wretched hallway of offices and bad luck. He ran all the way on wobbly, unreliable legs to the lift and jabbed at any random numbers on the keypad, probably annoying all the people already in the lift now that it had to stop on a whole bunch of unneeded floors.

"**You are the biggest idiot," Head-Zack laughed in his ear.**

"YOU are the biggest idiot!" Cloud responded. "You thought I was keeping a prostitute!"

"**That wasn't me," Zack defended flatly. "I'm dead."**

"**Yes, it was," Head-Aerith assured him gleefully. "It's one-hundred percent you. You're the idiot."**

"**Yeah, alright," Zack sighed in defeat. "Some of us just have off days okay..."**

As Cloud stood bracing himself up on one arm and trying to regain his breath and dilute his face to a more healthy colour, another boy his age approached the lift. He was taller than Cloud, but skinnier with a definite lanky stature, a rumpled and untidy uniform, and ungroomed red hair. The boy looked at him with no shame and opened his mouth.

"So I hear you're shacking up with a hooker, yo," Reno said.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**a/n: **This was a weird one, huh? What can I say? Nothing. Except: and with that, I beg you enjoyed this latest instalment—it was quite dull. You should **review** and regale me with stories of how your pet has been mistaken for a prostitute. I bet there was egg on your face!


	8. The Melon Murderer

**Author:** Zhampy  
**Rating:** T / PG-15  
**Genre:** Humour/Romance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own a single thing in the FFVII Compilation. See if you can spot all the references I steal throughout this fic!  
**Summery:** SOLDIERs are mysteriously vanishing when a smashed watermelon outside their quaters marks them as a hit. When Sephiroth and Angeal are marked it's up to Zack, Cloud and Genesis to discover who the mystery Melon Murderer is!  
**Contains:** Main pairing is **Cloud/Sephiroth** with a **Zack/Aerith** side-dish and some other minor pairings. Some OOCness for humourous purposes, AR, couple of OCs, and occasional foul language.

**Modus Operandi  
**_Episode Eight – The Melon Murderer._

_**SOLDIER INFORMER  
**BREAKING – THE MELON MURDERER STRIKES AGAIN  
SOLDIERS mysteriously disappearing!_

_Second Class Gregory Hedges was abducted from his quarters some time early Wednesday morning. The kidnapper left their now distinctive calling card at the scene of the crime; a smashed watermelon. Captain Hedges is the fourth reported disappearance this month and has been described by his fellows as a hard working and honest man who is not known to have any enemies._

_What exactly is the Melon Murderer's ultimate goal? And how are they abducting some of the most talented men of ShinRa? Investigations are under way._

_Be careful! Be vigilant! Be SOLDEIR!  
Reported by Private Arnold Cage_

It was the first time he'd been in a meeting with any higher officers. In an actual meeting room that is. And thank the Planet he hadn't been; it was the coldest most impersonal room he'd ever had the displeasure to have sat in. He sat beside Zack who looked like he were seconds from dropping to sleep, and next to his mentor were Genesis and Angeal. Across from him was Sephiroth, who looked blank but was probably bored out of his very brilliant mind.

And seated—now stood—beside Sephiroth was the Director of SOLDIER; one Lazard Deusericus, a blonde man in a fruity purple suit who looked very put out to actually be here. Cloud would have figured that being only one seat away from the head of SOLDIER would fill a guy with pride and a bit of smug self-importance.

Not Lazard.

He looked pissed.

Pissed at Cloud.

"Who brought this along?" Lazard pointed at him.

"That's Cloud, he's a regular," Genesis supplied.

"Can't you leave it out in the corridor?" Lazard looked down his nose so hard his glasses fell off his face.

"Nah, he's Zack's pro-toe-jay. Gotta learn these things and somesuch—say, are those toffees?" Genesis reached across the table to the bowl of complimentary sweets.

Lazard said nothing more as he replaced his glasses, but Cloud got the distinct impression that he was most unwelcome. Then the Director dropped a copy of the internal newsletter _SOLDIER INFORMER_ on the large table with a loud smack.

Zack jumped to full wakefulness with a start. "Oh, that."

"Oh, that," Lazard repeated harshly. "How is this possible?" he looked around the room but received only blank expressions of cluelessness in return.

"I heard," Zack began, "that the Melon Murderer can see in the dark."

"Well, I heard," Genesis said, "that he can walk on ceilings."

"He's over one-thousand-years-old," Angeal commented. "But that's probably a lie."

"I heard it was a Wutaian," Cloud mentioned.

Sephiroth pricked up at this tit bit.

_Down, boy_, Cloud grinned to himself internally.

"But this is not why I have brought you here," Lazard intoned patiently with a pointed glance at Cloud before he continued. "I have the unfortunate honour of informing you that we have been marked by this so called Melon Murderer."

"Personally?" Genesis asked through his mouthful of complimentary toffee.

"Very personally," Lazard hissed. He slapped two pictures of the marked victims on the table.

"Angeal!" Genesis chocked on his mouthful.

"Sephiroth!" Zack shrieked.

Slamming his palms down Lazard regarded the table coolly. "That's correct. General Sephiroth and Lieutenant General Angeal reported to me that they had both received the Mark of the Melon this morning outside their quarters."

"Oh, no!" Zack gasped.

"Oh, no, indeed," Lazard affirmed.

Cloud looked down the table to Angeal and across at Sephiroth. Neither man looked particularly concerned with this predicament, but Zack and Genesis looked plenty worried enough for them. Director Lazard began stalking around the long table in perhaps a more dramatic fashion that was probably necessary as he continued. Cloud was coming to the quick conclusion that the man was quite the drama queen.

"I don't mean to validate this absurdity," he said, "but I think it prudent that you both remain in your quarters for the time being."

"But those other SOLDIERs where taken from their rooms!" Zack said desperately.

"And that is why I shall be posting Turks outside their doors."

Sephiroth snorted.

"Is this really necessary, Director?" Angeal sighed.

"Yes! This is an insult to SOLDIER. Our funding may be cut if we are proved to be vulnerable."

"Seems a bit contradictory," Cloud muttered under his breath.

"Oh, so it's about the money," Angeal said.

"Of course it's about the money! You're not exactly quick and easy to produce," here Lazard pointedly regarded Sephiroth. "Heideggar and I already battle for the top resources; Scarlet and Reeve are pretty tenacious if I am to be honest. We cannot appear weak!"

"I agree, I agree," Genesis nodded vigorously with wide eyes.

Lazard continued, "and might I add that the Melon Murderer currently has a one hundred percent success rate."

The Director paused for dramatic effect and Cloud was reluctantly impressed. The man had clearly missed his true calling of theatre acting. He could play the very atmosphere of the room to his hand, and it was clearly winding Genesis and Zack up.

"Angeal, no! You can't die! There's still so much I need to tell you!" Genesis cried.

"You could tell me now?"

A pause. "Maybe later."

Then Zack did _A Very Dangerous Thing_. He grabbed Sephiroth's hands from the table and held them securely. "You can't die, Seph! You're my hero!"

Any atmosphere that Lazard had created was immediately drowned by the sudden chill that settled over the room. Cloud could barely look, but was certain he'd be brought forward as a witness at a later date, so figured he probably should. It was incredibly fortunate that both Zack and Sephiroth were wearing their gloves; any skin-on-skin action would surely result in tears. Not that he personally wouldn't mind some skin-on-skin action with Sephiroth regardless of it ending in tears, but err, we have to be thankful for small mercies.

"I won't let you be killed, don't worry!" Zack continued.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

After a trip to the medical bay, Cloud, Zack and Genesis had been ordered to return to whatever it was that they did when a war wasn't on. Neither Cloud nor Genesis drew any more attention to Zack's admittedly self-inflicted limp that was necessary.

"What do we do?" Cloud asked as he trailed behind his superiors.

"I'll tell you what we'll do!" Zack announced. "We'll solve this mystery ourselves!"

"To save 'Geal!" Genesis nodded enthusiastically.

"And Sephiroth," Cloud added quietly.

Zack spun around to his companions with a sly grin. "Okay, gentlemen, it's decided. We'll take over this operation by force if we must! Obviously the Turks aren't doing shite."

"Um," Genesis mumbled. "Perhaps we should keep in on the down-low. I sort of can't get messed up with Tseng again after the whole My Little Prez thing or i'll get probation. President's orders."

The Lieutenant General missed the look exchanged between the two younger men before Zack spoke again. "Alright! This is a private investigation between me, Sherzack; greatest detective of ShinRa!"

"Not accounting for much," Cloud coughed.

But Sherzack was still talking, "and my ever faithful assistant, Cloudson!"

"Do I get a pipe?" Cloudson asked excitedly.

"No, I get the pipe."

"Then Hooter can be official mascot and bloodhound!"

"Right, whatever."

As the pair of friends schemed and generally continued to enjoy each others presence, Genesis began to feel left out and decided to himself that he did not like that.

"Uh, so who am I?" he interrupted peevishly.

Sherzack considered the Lieutenant General for a moment. "You can be Mrs Hudson," he said.

"What!?"

"Keep your voice down, Mrs Hudson," Sherzack ordered smugly. "This is a _secret_ operation."

"Yes, go fetch us some tea, would you," Cloudson impudently waved his hand around.

"Hhmmmpphh," Genesis silently seethed. Then he lifted his nose high in the air and flipped his perfectly feathered hair. "I make a damn fine Mrs Hudson. A connoisseur such as myself could only bring more prestige to the role."

"'Attaboy—ouch!"

"Watch your mouth," Genesis snapped at the overly enthusiastic Zack and retracted his hand. "And you."

He smacked Cloud.

"Just because."

"Ow."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

And so it happened that the trio of SOLDIERs began their investigation. Cloudson and Mrs Hudson followed their lead detective down the corridor as Sherzack inspected every minute dust particle or smudge of dirt with his pilfered-from-the-labs (oh, god, please don't tell Hojo) overly-large magnifying glass. Cloudson dropped the apple core—that had been his breakfast due to the abruptness of the meeting and because apparently watermelon was off the brunch menu anyway—onto the floor.

"Aha!" Sherzack came to an abrupt halt, forcing a conga line of clumsiness from his companions. He bent down low to inspect something on the floor.

Faced with the temporary detective's butt up in the air, Cloudson leaned over. "I'm finding it really hard to not put stuff down his pants," he told Mrs Hudson.

Who, if he had known side of toast Cloudson liked buttered, probably would have taken this comment to an entirely misunderstood meaning. As it was, he simply laughed quietly.

"Hmm, hello, what's this? A clue!" Sherzack held up his evidence.

Cloudson sighed. "It's an apple core."

"The killer must be slipping to leave clues!"

"That was my breakfast."

A scandalised gasp was wrenched from his friend. "You're eating evidence?"

"You gave me that apple before the meeting."

"In that case you can dust it for fingerprints, my trusty sidekick!"

"I _just_ dropped it."

"Allow me," Mrs Hudson said, before taking the clue and with a practised arm, threw it neatly into a nearby bin. Before Sherzack could utter his complaint, Mrs Hudson grabbed the detective's collar. "Listen, you brain-addled wretch of a SOLDIER, if you don't start leading this operation with some class and or talent I swear to the Goddess I will turn this little fantasy of yours around and march you straight back to Sephiroth so he can take another shot at your knees with a chair!"

With that said, Mrs Hudson promptly stomped down the hall. Sherzack embarrassedly straightened his uniform and coughed awkwardly. "Mrs Hudson has quite the temper. Perhaps I should give him a raise," he said to Cloudson, who could only shake his head in response.

They soon approached their first destination to be greeted with the _Gruesome Twosome_ of the Turk brigade. Well, only the redhead of the pair was in any way gruesome so it was less a _Gruesome Twosome_ and more of a _Single Idiot For Hire_ dealio. Either way, Reno greeted them warmly as they homed in.

"GEN-ee-sis!" the boy enunciated with a low mocking bow when he received only a harumph in return.

Sherzack bullied his way to the front and held his magnifying glass up to his face in what he hoped was a _Classy and Talentful Manner_. "Good morning, gentlemen!"

"Hey yo, Zack. What's up?" Reno lazily replied with a nod over the SOLDIER's shoulder to Cloudson. "Nice pipe."

"Thanks! It's Zac—I mean Sherzack's."

"Yes, give me that!" Sherzack snatched the much admired pipe and blew and sucked on it to produce a steady stream of soap bubbles.

Reno and his partner Rude watched without saying a word for a while before something really did have to be said. "Got that from the lab, did ya?"

"I got it out of a Christmas cracker!" Sherzack informed them proudly.

"Anyway," Mrs Hudson pushed Sherzack aside as he addressed the Turk pair. "How is Angeal?"

"Don't worry, we're guarding him all well 'n' good," Reno sing-sang and twirled his finger in a circular motion. "Ah!"

Mrs Hudson grabbed that finger with an iron grip. "How is Angeal?" he asked of Rude this time.

The quiet man inclined his head slightly as he replied. "Worried."

"You're guarding him well?"

"Yes."

"I have your word?"

"Yes."

"May we see him?"

"No."

"Am I only going to get single word replies out of you?"

Rude shrugged.

"This is the mark?" Mrs Hudson indicated a handsomely smashed watermelon just outside the door that had been cordoned off with Turk Tape. It had little silhouettes of men in suits doing star-jumps with the words 'YOU DIDN'T SEE NOTHIN'' written between.

"Yes."

"I should chalk it!" Sherzack announced, holding up the offending item with a disturbing mind to outline the piece of fruit.

A so far ignored Cloudson pointed down the corridor a little. "There's a piece down there too."

"No!" Mrs Hudson snatched the chalk away and cradled it carefully. "You'll break its soul!"

"... what?"

Those present in the hall all looked to each other in a rare moment of confused comradery between SOLDIER and Turk, and shrugged as a group activity.

"Don't chalk the melon," Rude said.

"Hey, Gen, buddy, pal. Could ya let go of my finger now?" Reno whined as he was writhing lower and lower to the floor. His finger was released and he was unceremoniously shoved aside as Mrs Hudson moved for the door.

A firm arm stayed Mrs Hudson's hand. Rude shook his head negatively and the Lieutenant General and current _Chief of Caffeinated Beverage Production_ stopped and regarded the situation with the smarts it took to make Lieutenant General.

"We should send Cloud in first; he's the least intimidating," he eventually announced.

"Should I be offended?" Cloudson sniffed indignantly, but the one person who may have listened to him was already preoccupied on the floor sucking his mistreated finger.

"I don't want to stress out Angeal any more than necessary. You heard Rude!"

"Oh, yeah. 'Worried'. Truly seconds away from cardiac arrest, that poor Angeal," Reno said from the floor.

And so it fell to Cloudson to enter a superiors quarters without calling ahead, or making an appointment or apparently even knocking as Mrs Hudson opened the door and shoved him across the threshold. Honestly, he'd just stopped fighting it by this point. His reward for not putting up a show of resistance was a sound _CLONK_ to the back of the head and a cold, hard floor racing up to cradle his face.

"Don't worry! I'm a doctor!" he could hear Sherzack shout from outside with some scuffling noises.

"You're a detective," Mrs Hudson pointed out.

"And you're a maid! Pop off and make me some tea!" Sherzack sniped.

"Zachary!" That was Angeal's voice, tuned to admonishing.

"Damn! That was a fierce fall. You've got quite the fist, Ange," Reno gushed.

"..." he was sure Rude had not said.

No one was picking him up.

"Are you okay, 'geal?" Mrs Hudson asked of his closest friend.

There was a pauses before the man replied. "I'll admit to being a little anxious. I dislike being cooped up in here."

Cloudson would have very much liked to have seen what 'in here' looked like. He may have considered himself talented in interior design and a good judge of how a person's living arrangements reflected on their morality and character, but there really wasn't much he could asses from staring facedown at a cold, indigo floor. There did seem to be a streak of red behind something, but that could have just been his eyes bleeding.

"Wait," Sherzack said. "Let me asses the situation with my powers of deduction."

"Oh, for—" Mrs Hudson groaned.

And then Sherzack began talking very quickly.

"Lieutenant General Angeal Julius Hewley, SOLDIER First Class, age twenty-seven! During your childhood you lived in Banora with your mother and your best friend, one Lieutenant General Genesis Rhapsodos, and like many young boys your age you dreamed of joining SOLDIER and becoming a hero. You fulfilled your dream and rose through the ranks gaining not only a fanclub—the Keepers of Honour—but also an extremely handsome and charming and talented protégé by the name of Zachary (middle name undisclosed) Fair! You have recently become the target of a serial killer who is known by the moniker; the Melon Murderer!"

"Yes, I know, Zack," Angeal said.

"Oh."

"Honestly," and now Angeal sounded exasperated. Cloud wondered if this wasn't a frequent issue between the pair. "Honestly, you put all this effort into pretending to be a fictional character when you can't put the effort into remembering that Gaia revolves around the sun, _not the other way around_."

Cloud never did get to see Angeal's living arrangements as he never recovered fast enough (must try harder). Sherzack pronounced Angeal to be safe and sound and that his apartment held no clues, and since he wasn't allowed to chalk the melon, that they should probably move onto the next target. Someone grabbed his collar and dragged him—still face-to-ground—back into the hallway.

"We'll keep ya updated," Reno pointed suavely with his uninjured finger.

There was a sudden crash and all eyes darted down the hall. Cloudson couldn't make the figure out but the someone had slipped on the stray piece of watermelon. Reno immediately began shouting like a raving lunatic.

"Hey, you! No unauthorised personal allowed... except these three."

The shadowed figure paused a second before busting into a sprint down the hall, prompting Reno to give chase.

"We'll keep you updated," Rude eventually said.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

They approached their second destination marked obviously with a large, smashed watermelon, which was more of a security risk considering that Sephiroth lived in ShinRa Tower and not the barracks like Angeal and Genesis, and every other SOLDIER and soldier under ShinRa employment. The Turks assigned to the General's protection where a level up from the _Single Idiot For Hire and Partner_. Tseng took orders from no one but the President and Cissnei was his immediate subordinate. That they had been ripped from Shinra's teat meant that these mysterious disappearances were being taken with an utmost seriousness—but not serious enough to consider that one may want to kidnap the president, of course—not that anyone would guess that judging from Sherzack...

Tseng's lip lifted in a rare show of emotion as he smirked at Mrs Hudson. "Shall I be seeing you at the toy store again, Genesis? New stock this Friday."

Mrs Hudson grunted ungracefully and sneered and scowled.

"How's Seph?" Sherzack worriedly asked of Tseng, who instantly reverted to his poker face.

"We don't know. He has the emotional range of a soggy napkin," the Turk answered.

"He hasn't brought us a cup of tea like Angeal does for Reno and Rude," Cissnei complained.

"Oh!" Sherzack started. "We can have Mrs Hudson get right on that! Alright, Dr. Cloudon, you're up."

This time Cloudson had Hooter for back-up, and if he were to be assaulted by a nervous SOLDIER it would almost certainly be Sephiroth and he'd certainly need the protection. Hooter provided him with this protection by way of immediately flying away the instant something heavy collided with his face upon entrance.

"Well, I think that went well!" Mrs Hudson cheered as he stepped over Cloud's crumpled form.

Sherzack bustled in with his mouth flapping. "General Sephiroth (middle name undisclosed) (surname undisclosed), SOLDIER First Class, age twenty-three! Born and bred in Shinra you have lived your whole life in Midgar with your father Professor Ho—"

Mrs Hudson smacked him upside the head.

"—you have lived your whole life in Midgar as an orphan and raised to be the greatest SOLDIER. A highly decorated and praised SOLDIER you stormed up the ranks to General during the Wutai war with your friends Angeal Hewley and Genesis Rhapsodos; you inspire heroics in all those who aspire to join SOLDIER. You have amassed a large cult following by the name of the Silver Elite and many more fans besides, not least the likes of a certain up-and-coming, charming and talented Major Fair. However, you have become a target of that insidious and fiendishly clever Melon Murderer!"

"Any questions?" Sherzack asked hopefully of the very confused man. "Queries? Worries? Apprehensions?"

After a brief moment of thought Sephiroth asked, "is it true you didn't know that Gaia revolves around the sun?"

"Go put the kettle on would you, Mrs Hudson?" Sherzack said lamely.

"I want coffee!" Cissnei shouted through the door.

"You just said you wanted tea," Mrs Hudson groused.

"Changed my mind!"

With a harumph Mrs Hudson also took Sherzack and Tsengs orders. "Seph?"

"Black," Sephiroth said.

"Alright, two coffees, two teas and an orange juice for Zack."

"Tseng wants cream!" Cissnei shouted.

"What, a latté?"

"No, he wants cream!"

"Actually, I want a hot chocolate," Sherzack put in.

"I don't suppose Seph has any marshmallows. You'll only be disappointed," Mrs Hudson said.

"Still though... hot chocolate."

"Tseng wants low fat cream!"

"I don't want low fat cream!" Sherzack shouted.

"NO ONE'S HAVING CREAM!" Mrs Hudson shrieked so loudly that his voice had probably made any hanging pictures rattle, if Cloudson could have lifted his face from the carpet to check. "So that's a water for everybody."

"Genesis," Sephiroth said and Mrs Hudson stopped and turned. "Black."

So Mrs Hudson poured everyone a glass of water just to spite them but laboured to make Sephiroth a tea, no milk, no sugar. He pulled a face as he peered into the hot cup then shrugged. He could hardly criticise others' eating habits when he regularly consumed month-old raspberry juice.

Trying to get information out of Sephiroth was like trying to wring blood from a stone; you could put pressure on it but if it cracked it would only be your hand that hurt. Or something like that. Sephiroth was notoriously tight-lipped and it got kind of awkward sitting in silence after a while.

It also didn't help that Cloudson was still lying on his face in the doorway with an upturned table next to him, but at least Tseng and Cissnei were happy now—or at least mildly contented with their glasses of water. Eventually Sephiroth flat out got up and just disappeared into a different room without a word, never one for (or to understand) social graces. Shortly afterwards Cloudson began to rouse himself, perhaps instinctively realising he were safe from further embarrassment, at least for the immediate future.

"Aha! A challenger approaches!" Sherzack announced, drawing attention to the situation unfolding.

A small, silver-grey tabby cat with big, bright green eyes was approaching Cloudson with a blatant prowl to its steps. _This must be the cat Sephiroth mentioned keeping_, Cloudson thought. _With those big beautiful eyes he's almost a match made for Hooter. Even our pets match!_

He reached out to pet the small kitty. "Aww, what a cute little—"

_punt!_

The cat went flying across the room.

"Genesis! Why'd you do that!?" Cloudson yelped.

The Lieutenant General lowered his foot. "Dirty rat! Did you see it? It was coming right at me!"

The door burst open.

"Hey, yo—!"

_punt!_

"Genesis, quit it!"

"Dirty rat, it was coming right at me," the man said again, but this time with feigned enthusiasm.

There was a moment or three quiet enough to hear the _drip drip drip_ of water from the kitchen. The trio of SOLDIERs glanced in the direction the cat had been sent spinning, then down to the prone form of Reno lying on the carpet, then back over to the grandfather clock again to check for the cat; no luck.

"Did you just kick Sephiroth's cat? I think you did," Cloudson said with wide eyes.

Sherzack threw his arms up in the air with frustration already having had predicted future events, yet unaware of all the colour draining from the Lieutenant General's face. "Great! Now who's going to replace Mrs Hudson? Reno? Feh!"

"Ugghh..." Reno groaned.

It was then that Sephiroth chose to make himself known again. He came into the room as silently as the cat had, and with as much a predatory prowl (but fortunately managed to not be kicked across the living space). He looked highly suspicious—that is to say, they all must have looked highly suspicious to him, not that Sephiroth himself was suspicious—Cloudson was pretty sure he had a concussion from the numerous face-to-floor greetings he'd endured.

"Where is Grímnir?" Sephiroth asked slowly.

Neither Cloudson nor Sherzack could stop their eyes flickering to Mrs Hudson for less than a microsecond, but it was enough. Mrs Hudson took a discreet glup and smiled weakly.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

After a visit to the medical bay, Cloudson, Sherzack and Mrs Hudson gathered with the Turks in their initial meeting room. Everyone pointedly made sure not to pay any attention as Mrs Hudson glowered and snarled as he tenderly parked his rear end in a hard chair.

The group was rescued from having to listen to the Lieutenant General pretend that yes, his posterior was quite fine, thanks for asking and that no, it had not recently had a very intimate encounter with a very long and shocking Electro-Mag Rod, when the Director strode in.

Lazard entered the room, stopped for a second to glare at Cloudson, then resumed to his place beside Sephiroth who was just staring at Mrs Hudson.

Just. Staring.

Mrs Hudson squirmed uncomfortably.

"I see our two commanding officers are still with us," the Director began in what Cloudson thought was a strangely solemn tone.

Reno held a pack of ice to the side of his head—damn, but could Genesis get his legs up high. It was no wonder he were so popular amongst the ranks... and the office... and the labs... and the city at large—and said, "I was just coming to tell ya some new info we'd discovered when this..." he indicated his injury.

Mrs Hudson had the bad grace to appear smug for a second, then went back to nervous when Sephiroth stepped up the staring a notch.

"Oh, yes?" Lazard eyed the boy warily and Cloudson rolled his eyes. This animosity between SOLDIER and Turks was the hight of childishness. The two groups could work quite well together, when needed.

"We didn't find any clues at Angeal's or Sephiroth's," Sherzack informed the room.

"You what?"

"We didn't find any—"

"You where supposed to be training or whatever it is you do, not loitering around potential victims' quarters! What if you contaminated the crime scene? I deliberately ordered you to return to work!" Lazard shouted.

Sherzack waved his finger and puffed on his pipe as if this were all nothing more than a game to him; as if he'd solved the case the moment it had been hatched and as if the lives of two top commanders of Shinra were not at stake. "Ah, but you didn't forbid Sherzack, greatest detective of ShinRa! No one can hold down the great Sherzack!"

"Sit down, Zack," Angeal muttered.

"Yes'm."

"As I was sayin' about this info," Reno began again, but Sherzack waved him off.

"Zack..." Angeal warned.

But Sherzack simply grinned. "There's no need for your meager information," he said to which Reno glared.

"And I suppose you're going to break this case wide open," Cissnei, who was seated near Tseng and Sephiroth, rolled her eyes and propped her chin on a hand.

"As a matter of fact," Sherzack grinned wider, "I am!"

Lazard sighed irritably. "Zack, we've no time for your games. If you wish to eventually be promoted I suggest you begin acting more seriously. It's almost impossible to believe that Angeal is your mentor; I dread to imagine how your protégé will turn out."

Here, Cloudson was the victim of yet another irritable glare. He really should begin collecting them—one from every person in the company!

Sherzack removed himself from the table and began pacing. The Director's eyes followed the young SOLDIER suspiciously and it was all Cloudson could do not to smack his forehead on the table. Fantastic, what they really needed right now was _two_ overly-dramatic flounces!

"On the contrary, Director. I think you'll be very interested in what I have to say."

"Well," Mrs Hudson put in rudely, "I never am, so may I leave?"

"You may NOT leave," Sherzack ordered, really pushing his luck when it came to this 'Mrs Hudson' business. "Because the killer is IN THIS VERY ROOM."

Everyone drew a sharp breath and waited.

Sherzack waited some more.

It was all terribly exciting.

"It was..." Sherzack paused again.

"Oh for Godessake, get on with it!" Mrs Hudson shouted irritably.

Sherzack faltered slightly before recovering and spinning on his heel dramatically and thrusting his pointer finger in the direction of the killer. "It was you!"

Everyone released their breath with a gush of surprise.

Sat under an accusing pointy finger, Director Lazard huffed indignantly. "Didn't you parents ever teach you it's rude to point, _Major?_"

"You can feign innocence all you like, Mr Deusericus," Sherzack slapped his hand down on the table, startling Reno from a light doze.

"This is absurd," Lazard said. "Return to your seat, SOLDIER."

"I have all the evidence right here!" Sherzack produced a file from nether-regions unknown and waved it around.

Lazard began collecting his own files and tapping them together. He sighed, "I think we should reschedule this meeting at a later date, perhaps when Major Fair has calmed down and we can discuss this situation in a manner befitting the most powerful army on Gaia."

"You can try and escape, Director," Sherzack started snidely.

Lazard stopped partway to the door.

"But you made one fatal mistake," Sherzack continued.

Gripping stuff.

"Zack, stop. Seriously," Cloudson whispered desperately.

"Oh?" But Lazard turned slightly at the accusation.

"Oh, indeed," Sherzack waited before dropping the metaphorical bombshell. He dropped the fat file of papers to the table with a sound _thump_. "You bought twenty watermelons on the company gil! It's all here in your personal records!"

Everyone around the table gasped dramatically, except Sephiroth who was still staring.

Lazard gritted his teeth as his eyes darted around quickly. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Sherzack spun around pointlessly. "There's also security footage of you outside Sephiroth's place, dropping the not-so-metaphorical melon! You're guilty, Director, admit it!"

"D'argh, alright!" Lazard exploded into an impressive red-faced sweat. "Alright, you caught me! It was me! All me!"

Cloudson nearly fell out of his chair at the speed both Angeal and Tseng sprung to their feet to restrain the Director. The man struggled vainly then appeared to give in.

"But, Zack, how did you work it out?" Cissnei asked with alarm.

"It first came to me," Sherzack began as if he were speaking to something very wistful and far away.

"That Gaia revolves around the sun," Reno interrupted.

Cloudson giggled.

"It first came to me!" Sherzack continued loudly, "in the infirmary when they were treating Mrs Hudson for that rod up his arse."

Mrs Hudson coughed.

Sephiroth was still staring.

"I was bored," Sherzack continued, "and restless, and Mrs Hudson told me to bugger off and stop interrupting such a delicate procedure. So while all the nurses were preoccupied with the drama queen I checked up on some medical files—it's kinda my thing, don't judge. To my surprise there was the Director's file on top so he must have been their most recent patient. It seems the Director has a bruised pelvis and I thought back to earlier in the day. Earlier to when a shadowy figure slipped and fell on his own murder weapon before escaping. At the time I noticed how he fell—_on his pelvis!_"

Everyone gasped again!

"I never did catch the weasel," Reno muttered.

Sherzack resumed his stomping around the room then stopped abruptly. "And I also saw the Director making off with a barrow full of watermelons from the canteen when I was buying my faithful partner, Cloudson, an apple before our meeting this very morning."

Cloudson gasped upon realisation. "Watermelon wasn't off the menu, it was sold out!"

"Exactly, my five-fingered friend," Sherzack confirmed. "I'm sure if you search the Director's quarters you'll find his latest stock."

"Why did you do it, Director?" Angeal asked sadly.

"Why? WHY?" Lazard spat and hissed. "Because I hate you all! Every last one of you hopped up mako junkies! I wanted to spread panic through the ranks! I wanted some excitement! I was being remote controlled! Pick which ever you like best! But I never murdered anyone. That was just your typical SOLDIER sensationalism."

Sherzack laughed bitterly "If not murdered, then pray tell where are they, Director?"

"Zack's very into this," Cloudson whispered to Reno who nodded.

"Paid vacation."

Everyone gasped! Again!

"Aha! So you admit—wait, what?"

"That's right," Lazard hissed.

"Paid leave," Angeal reiterated.

"Yes. It was the only way I could dispose of some SOLDIERs without _murdering_ anyone."

"But—but that makes no sense," Cissnei said thoughtfully. "Why would you return back to the scene of the crime?"

With a resigned sigh, Lazard put on his dramatic airs again. He'd be damned if Zack would out-drama him. "That's what I do. I mark them and then I return later to send them on paid leave. I was not expecting Zack and company to be there as I specifically ordered them to return back to work, and I assure you, your superiors _will_ be notified of your disobedience."

Zack worried his lower lip.

"General," Lazard notified said superior. "Major Zachary Fair has deliberately disobeyed orders. You may wish to deal with it."

"Oh," Sephiroth said. And that was that.

"I," Cloudson rubbed his bumpy head, "still don't really get it. Why?"

Lazard snorted. "Do you have any idea how boring it is being Director of SOLDIER? I have just enough menial paperwork to keep me busy but nothing actually interesting to do. Really do. Do you know the last time I got a date? I certainly don't. Not anymore! I may as well put myself on the celibate registry! I couldn't even get Claire in accounting on a date and she's as loose as a screw in Hojo's head! Does it get lower than that? I think not. Sometimes a guy just has to create his own forms of entertainment, and after a while wanking in the office gets—"

"I believe we've heard enough," Tseng stopped him.

Lazard glowered and struggled futility against his captors. "And I would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling SOLDIERs!"

"Excelsior!" Sherzack cried triumphantly.

"That's not a Sherlock quote," Cloudson said.

"We're not angry, Director, we're just disappointed," Angeal interrupted.

"Speak for yourself," Mrs Hudson blurted. "I had to cancel a hair appointment to deal with this bullshit. Look at my hair, look at it! It's like straw. I'm hideous!"

"What shall we do with him, General?" Tseng asked.

"Put him in the holding cells with Genesis. This is something Heideggar and the President will want to deal with."

Angeal stopped short. "Why Genesis too?"

Sephiroth pointed to the guilty party. "He kicked my cat!"

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**a/n:** This chapter was based on an ongoing incident at my uni. Someone went around impaling watermelons on the spikes around campus. It went on for weeks. Someone sure was dedicated. Those suckers are expensive! The culprit was dubbed the 'Melon Murderer' and then just vanished. Spooky! I didn't get any paid leave at the end though. I hope the culprit wasn't any of you **review**ers! Next chapter actually has some Cloud/Sephiroth interaction! This is a slow-burner fic, if you hadn't noticed.


End file.
